Why does it always have to be redheads?
by Maddie's Lullaby
Summary: James Potter's seventh year was supposed to be simple: stay out of trouble, lead his team to victory, and enjoy his last year. Now how was he supposed to survive a Weasley wedding, a holiday break in the Highlands, Quidditch, the NEWTs, and life in general, when the terrifying but very attractive Moire McLeoch, Slytherin's captain, was around? Everyone knew, Potters and redheads...
1. Seventh Year

**Seventh Year**

"Promise me you'll write," Ginevra Potter asked, hugging her youngest son tightly while Lily, forever a daddy's little girl, wouldn't let go of Harry.

Albus tried, in vain, to get out of her embrace. James, wiser, had understood long ago that trying to escape his mother's hug would only result in her holding onto him longer. He let his father ruffle his unruly dark hair and noticed with pride that he was now taller than the great Harry Potter.

"Harry," Ginny complained. "Look what you've done! I almost managed to make his hair stay still but you ruined it!"

"Come on, darling, we both know it's impossible to tame a Potter's hair."

James could only nod. He shouldn't have, as it brought his dad's attention straight back to him.

"Please, James, behave this year! I don't want Minerva to floo me while I'm at work! She started scolding me like a child in front of the whole Auror department!"

The loud whistle of the train brought them to attention.

"Sure dad! Gotta go! Bye mum! Bye Uncle Ron! See you, Aunt Hermione!"

As Lily got one last hug from her father, the Potter-Weasley clan hopped onto the Hogwarts Express. With sadness, James remembered it was his last year hopping on the train to Hogwarts. They waved at their parents from the window and when they were too far to really distinguish who was who, they started looking for a wagon while Rose left them for a prefects' meeting. Their prayers were soon answered as Scorpius Malfoy, Albus' best mate, raised his head from his book and waved at them from a wagon where he was sitting alone, saving them seats. Soon, they were installed and chatting about their summer as Scorpius left for the same meeting Rose was attending.

"So, James, I heard you're the Quidditch team captain for Gryffindor this year," Albus asked, looking too angelic for anything good to follow.

"Yeah. My greatest achievement!"

"Well, get ready to have your asses kicked by Slytherin this year," the Potter son said, wishing his best mate was here. The two had so much chemistry it wasn't surprising that they were both chosen as beaters.

"Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that," James snorted as Lily and Hugo rolled their eyes.

"Question, James. Do you know who the new Slytherin captain is?"

"Nope, and I don't really care! The bloke's gonna be sorry to cross me on the field."

"Good thing I'm no bloke then," they heard from the door.

It was like an icy hand had suddenly gripped James' stomach and started twisting it senselessly. Slowly, he turned his head around, dreading the view that would meet him. And there she was, in all her terrifying, smirking splendor: seventh year Slytherin, and apparently Quidditch team captain, Moire McLeoch.

For what seemed to be the thousandth time, James reminded himself that she shouldn't intimidate him, of all people. After all, he was the stereotypical Gryffindor: stupidly brave, rash, and kind of act-first-think-later, a philosophy of life that had cost him his previous relationship with his Ravenclaw girlfriend. However, when his eyes landed on the Slytherin girl, he felt small. Sure, Moire was tiny. Very tiny. He was taller than her by at least a foot, give or take. It was a wonder if the top of her head could reach his chin when she wore heels. But the way she carried herself, her icy glares, and her seductive manners made James' hair stand up more than usual.

Not Lily, though. The kid adored her. She was like the older sister she always wanted. And the feeling was mutual. As did the rest of his family. So much that she had spent a couple of weeks at the Burrow during the annual Potter-Weasley family get together, where the house was cramped but spirits were high, much to Molly's delight as she always looked forward to having a new mouth to feed. The third year Gryffindor rushed towards her role model and hugged her. The ice in Moire's chocolate brown eyes sprinkled with golden flecks – not that James had noticed she had golden flecks or particularly chocolate brown eyes – melted suddenly and she smiled at the young redhead. Albus and Hugo faked a gasp.

"What is this?"

"This isn't a frown!"

"Is this an actual _smile_, Moire?"

"The world is ending!"

She glared at them but instead of scaring them, it only made them laugh harder. James had to force himself to laugh along with them and not pee his pants instead. Yes, James Sirius Potter dreaded Moire Bonnie McLeoch. But thank Merlin's knickers she had no idea just how much.

"So, McLeoch, ready to lose epically against Gryffindor this year?"

"Oh, please, Potter, I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but it's making you delusional," she mocked, her voice laced by a very faint Scottish accent.

"Moire!" Lily called, still holding onto her arm. "Mum told me to give you this!"

She rushed to her bag and got a wrapped box and short letter that she handed to the Slytherin.

"Is that mum's fudge?" James asked, almost offended. So that was why she didn't want him to eat more of it?!

"Yup!"

"Don't even try asking for some, none of you are getting any," she stated, clutching the box to her chest.

Much to James' dismay, Albus' amusement, and Lily's delight, Ginny had taken a particular liking in Moire, even making sure several times that Albus, Scorpius, and Lily had invited her to the Burrow over summer. Her temper matched exactly that of their mother, and the Potter matriarch had taught the young Slytherin the Bat-Bogey Hex for which she was so famous during her Hogwarts years, which was one of the main reasons James dreaded her. Her beautiful flamboyant red mane did not help.

"Hey, how's your boyfriend from Durmstrang doing, by the way?" Albus asked, smirking.

"Oh, I dumped him."

Until her fifth year, Moire had the reputation of being left heartbroken as her choice in boyfriends wasn't exactly the best. Even James could only describe any boyfriend she'd had up to that point as conceited assholes. However, she soon changed her ways, being the one breaking hearts with her relatively short skirts, her rather plunging necklines, and her smirks that could make a goblin blush.

Nope, James Potter wouldn't deny it. Moire was pretty. More than that, she was hot. He wasn't the only one to think so, which was proven immediately when two – rather stupid – sixth year Gryffindors whistled in her direction, not immediately realizing who it was. They had only understood their mistake when she turned around, her glare so petrifying that one of the two blokes tripped and nearly fell. Her death stare followed them until they hurriedly disappeared in their wagon. Satisfied, she straightened up and after one last wave she spun around and left for her own wagon.

"Well, too bad they chose the only person who actually scares you to be the Slytherin captain, right, James?"

"I am not scared of her!"

"Come again, Potter?"

Startled, he almost jumped from his seat. The poor Gryffindor turned around to see Rose, smirking, followed by Scorpius.

"Nice impression, Weasley."

"Thanks, Malfoy, I try."

"Oh, quit flirting, you two!"

_oOo_

"… And that's why I'm sure James is going to ask me out!" Olivia Thompson's shrilly voice kept saying while her equally shrilly voiced friends kept squealing of excitement as Moire was trying to enjoy her meal.

"Thompson, quit yelling in my ear, I'm trying to eat here!" Moire finally cried, at her wits' end.

"You're just jealous," the Gryffindor girl answered. "What are you doing at the Gryffindor table anyways?"

"Sorting's over, and I've also got friends at this table. And besides, no rules forbid me from sitting wherever I want."

After her second year of being headmistress, McGonagall had noticed the awkwardness at the Great Hall. She had started promoting inter-house friendship, including allowing students to sit at other tables. It had taken some time, but more and more students ate with their relatives or friends from other houses. Lily had been begging Moire to help her out with a potion she was struggling to understand. Classes had not yet started, but the poor third year was hopeless in Potions and needed to study whatever subject their Potion professor would tackle a day in advance. Thankfully for her, Moire's best subject was Potions.

"And just between you and me, you're not the kind of girl Mrs. Potter would enjoy having over."

"Oh, and you are? Like the Potters would invite a dirty, slimy Slytherin into their home."

Moire's hand grabbed her wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. However, she kept her haughty mocking smirk on her face.

"That's not what Mrs. Potter seemed to think when I was over at her house, this summer."

"Hey! You show some respect for Moire, Thompson! My brother is Slytherin too. And having a dirty, slimy Slytherin over at our house beats being visited by a slutty tramp any time!" Lily furiously defended her, red in the face. Moire was so proud.

"Beat it, midget. Go back to sucking your thumb, or whatever it is you do."

Moire was on her feet a second later, wand drawn out, and her eyes ice cold once again.

"Ye talk tae Lily like that again, ye lose yer tongue. Do you understand me, or do I have tae repeat it for that slow brain of yers tae comprehend?" She threatened her voice perfectly calm and dripping of venom, her Scottish accent suddenly a lot heavier. Olivia carefully nodded. "Come on, Lily. The Slytherin table is quieter. And I'm sure Albus will be happy tae help as well."

Lily nodded and grabbed her books as Moire led the way to the Slytherin table.

"So, I heard you had a Scandinavian boyfriend over the summer, McLeoch," Olivia tried, using her last card against her.

This time, the entire room heard their exchange as every student froze. The professors' gaze was directed on them as they started noticing something was wrong.

"Heard you dumped him too. So, jumping to another guy, now, bitch?" The Gryffindor smiled, flipping her hair.

Moire turned around with a smirk on her lips.

"Oh, please. You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing," she answered haughtily, her accent carefully subsided as she tried her best to keep her temper in check, before walking towards the Slytherin table. When she reached it, however, she turned around, the room still deadly silent.

"Also," she added. "He was Slav, you dumb twat."

_oOo_

Her entire body relaxed as she sunk into the bath. Being Quidditch captain came with its privileges, mainly the prefects' bathroom. Oh, how she loved it.

"This week has been horrid," she complained to Rose, the Ravenclaw sixth year prefect Lydia, and Tammy, the Head Girl.

Rose and Moire had decided to don their bathing suits and go relax in the tub. Lydia and Tammy had overheard and has asked to join on their little impromptu spa day.

"Didn't Slytherin have their tryouts today?"

"Yup."

"How was it?"

"It sucked, especially when a bunch of second years who couldn't even stay on their brooms tried out."

"Hey at least you're done with that."

"Yeah, and I can focus on Lupin's homework. The bloke's hard. First week of school and he's already given out homework."

"But at least, Teddy's a good teacher," Rose smiled.

"See, you _have _to defend him because he's like family for you. Is he marrying Victoire anytime soon?"

"During the winter break. By the way, Aunt Ginny says you can't escape it and you must come or else she'll apparate in your house, snatch you from there, and drag you to the reception with no regard to what you are wearing at that moment."

"Your Aunt is terrifying. I love her."

"Wait… You know Lupin outside of school?!"

"Yeah. He's my Uncle Harry's godson so he's there like almost every day."

"And the Potter-Weasley clan seems keen on having me over any chance they get so I have to see my Professor in a social setting."

"And he's marrying my cousin Victoire."

"Awww, that's so cute!"

"Yeah, they're adorable. Too bad we can't all find love like them!" Moire said, rather cheerfully.

"Don't say that! You'll find someone!"

"Now where's the fun in that, Rosie?" She smirked.

_oOo_

"Merlin's knickers, McLeoch, get a room!" James yelled, covering his eyes. They would burn, he was sure. He would become blind. Watching Moire McLeoch snogging random guys was not exactly one of his favorite past times.

"Oh, grow up, Potter," Moire sighed, her lipstick smudged and her arms still around the Ravenclaw's neck. What was his name? Patrick? Percy?

"Umm… I think I'm gonna go. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Peter?

"Yeah, see you tomorrow… Paul."

Damage avoided. He smiled before placing a kiss on her lips. James was looking at them with an expression of disgust on his face.

"What do you want, Potter?" She asked, irritated. With one flick of her wand, her makeup was back in place. "Also, how did you even find me?"

"McGonagall wants to see all the Quidditch captains so we can take care of the last few things before the season officially starts," he answered, pointedly ignoring her second question.

She shrugged and followed him.

"Who did you end up choosing?"

"I've got McLaughlin, Burke, and Jenkins for Chasers, obviously Malfoy and Potter Jr. as Beaters, Buchanan as Seeker, and me in the goals. You?"

"I have the Scamander twins as Beaters, my cousin Fred as Keeper, Creevey as Seeker, and Thomas-Finnigan, Wood, and yours truly as Chasers."

"Scamander twins, huh?"

"Yeah. They're only in fourth year, but they're pretty good. Though I was pretty shocked they ended up in Gryffindor, with their mother in Ravenclaw and their dad in Hufflepuff…"

"Well… I guess I'll see a certain redhead in the stands more often…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, you said a redhead. Is that a Weasley?"

"Kind of…," she smirked.

Horrified, James looked at her.

"Is it Lily?"

"I don't know, is it?"

"The Scamander twins? Which one of them? I'm going to kill him."

"You're jumping to conclusions Potter, I never said it was your sister."

"Your smile says it all! Now which twin? Is it Lorcan? It's Lorcan, right? Don't walk away!"

She shook her head, walking ahead.

_oOo_

"You two look dead," Rose empathized as the twins stepped into the Gryffindor common room.

"James…"

"… seemed…"

"… really pissed…," Lysander finished. Both looked so exhausted they had to speak in turns. They immediately rushed to their room.

Moire, who was helping Lily with her homework, giggled.

"What do you know?" Fred asked, smirking, as he plopped down on the couch. "James was _ruthless_."

"Well… I might have led him to believe Lily would be at the games since she has a crush on one of the twins…"

"Moire!" Lily shouted, red. "I do not!"

"Yeah right. Don't worry, I didn't say which one. So, he'll make them both suffer instead of just Lysander. Gotta go, it's time for Slytherin to practice!"

She didn't miss Olivia Thompson's hateful look as she stepped out of the Gryffindor common room. She held her gaze and sent her a death glare that would've made both Ginny Potter and Salazar Slytherin proud accompanied with a smirk when her arch nemesis flinched.

"Fucking twat," she mumbled, walking down the stairs.

* * *

_Hello all! _

_This story has been sitting around on the back of my mind for a while now so I hope you guys will enjoy reading it as much as I'll enjoy writing it!_

_Please leave a review if you guys enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be posted in about a week!_

_Enjoy :)_


	2. Potion Disaster

**Potion disaster**

It was not a secret to anyone that Moire McLeoch's best subject was potions, which was why Professor Khan, her head of House, allowed her to assist while she taught her classes. Headmistress McGonagall, knowing fully well that the young Slytherin was the brightest potions student since perhaps Severus Snape himself, and that she wanted to be a potions master one day, had encouraged Professor Khan to let her do so, and her sixth and now seventh year were spent attending as many of Khan's younger classes as she could fit in her schedule. Moire welcomed the extra work, as it meant less studying for her potions NEWT, since she would be reviewing the materials from the past six years during her time in the classroom.

She had made sure to attend the third year Gryffindor-Slytherin double period to help poor Lily out, however, as much as she had tried to get the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff fifth years, Transfiguration had fallen squat in the middle of it, so she was stuck Gryffindor and Slytherin again, and with Twiddledee and Twiddledum whose smirks had reached their ears when she had walked into the room the first day.

"Is this our dear Quidditch captain, Albus?"

"Why yes, it is, Scorpius!"

"Potter, Malfoy, cut it out," she had hissed.

Now, a month into the school year, they still weren't making her life any easier. In fact, today, nobody was.

"Something smells good," Alice Longbottom had commented upon entering the classroom.

Everyone had agreed and started sniffing around, disregarding Professor Khan's instructions.

"Alright," the woman had finally exclaimed. "If you all finish up early today, I'll show you the potion."

Satisfied, the fifth years all sat down and agreed to cooperate and Moire could finally start walking around and comment on their potions.

Some were alright and needed only a bit of guidance.

"Creevey, Murtaugh, looking good but not quite the shade. Maybe turn your flame down a bit."

Some were just plain terrible.

"Nott, Goyle, the potion is supposed to turn green, not brown. Try adding a hawk feather and stir clockwise a couple of times until it's the right color. That's not clockwise!"

That one incident resulted in a lot of smoke and a few adjustments before the lesson was back on track.

"Weasley and Longbottom, nicely done."

She rolled her eyes when Albus mimicked putting a spider's eyeball in his mouth but did not say anything because, technically, their potion was perfect too.

They, however, all sped their work up, and their potions were bottled up and on the Professor's desk well before the end of the two-hour class. Eagerly, they followed Professor Khan with their eyes as she walked into the backroom and whispers erupted when she came out holding a cauldron.

"Moire, would you mind standing near the cauldron," she quietly indicated. "We've had… instances before where students have stolen some of the potion and used it on their crushes."

The seventh year nodded, remembering the stories she had heard at the Weasleys' involving chocolates and a bezoar, and stood next to the table, watching the potion like a hawk.

"This is Amortentia," Khan declared as she removed the lid and allowed the steam to spiral up. The students all leaned forward to take in the mother-of-pearl sheen and of course, the smell. "Be very careful, this is the most powerful love potion ever made. You aren't supposed to learn about this until next year, but I don't see the harm in it."

"It smells like chocolate frogs and lavender," Alice marveled. She also blushed a bit, obviously omitting a detail. She wasn't the only one. More than half of them sported red cheeks. She made a personal note to tease Malfoy and Potter later in the common rooms, as both looked like tomatoes.

"No, it smells like new books, Grandma Molly's treacle tart, and… sandalwood?" Rose argued, hesitating to grasp the last smell as the questioning frown on her face showed. It took her a second to realize what it was, and her neck and ears flared up.

"And that, children, is the last characteristic of Amortentia! To each person, it smells like their favorite smells. Everyone, take a second to see what that is."

Moire smiled and allowed herself to take a whiff. Just like last year, she could smell the Scottish moors and their wildflowers covered with dew at dawn, and the apothecary, with its dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and… Her smile turned into a confused expression as, instead of the McLeoch manor's centuries old library, another smell wiggled itself into her nose. Pine trees, with a hint of citrus, that seemed oddly familiar.

"Alright everyone, class dismissed. But I would like to take half a second to remind you all that love potions are forbidden within the walls of Hogwarts, with the exception of this very class, and to be brewed only by me. That will be all. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your day!"

_oOo_

"New ink, the fireplace, and…," Scorpius reluctantly admitted, muttering the last smell so no one understood it clearly.

"And? What was that, Scorpius, I didn't hear well," Moire smirked from above her cauldron. With a flick of her wand, she turned up her portable flame.

They were all enjoying the last few warm days outside, under a willow tree by the lake. The Giant Squid's tentacles could sometimes be seen coming out of the surface of the lake, so it could also soak up some sun.

"Roses," he grumbled. "Also, do you really have to make a potion here? If you asked Khan, she'd let you use the potion room, she practically worships the ground you walk on."

"I know, but half the ingredients aren't technically – hey Kenzie – allowed on Hogwarts grounds."

Her roommate sat down near her before scrunching her nose at the pungent smell coming from the potion and moving next to Albus.

"This is vile," McKenzie commented. "What's that, poison?"

"Acne fighting foundation."

"That's fucking genius."

"Yes, I think so too. Usually when you use foundation with the intention of hiding a few pimples, they get worse, so why hasn't someone tried this yet, I don't quite know. If I manage to make this work, it would be pretty sweet."

"Go back to the ingredients that aren't allowed in the school, how did you get those?" Albus asked, concerned.

"Some I grew at home and our house elf sends them to me every now and then, and the rest I got from your uncles Ron and George. They said they'd sell them to me half price if I agree to send them my cosmetics potions to sell at their store and I get forty percent of the profits on them."

"Forty? You are ruthless."

"I'm a McLeoch, we know how to do business. I even let them off easy. They already sell my eye color changing potions."

"Are you sure there's no side effects for that?"

"I tested it out myself, it's pretty safe."

"Is that why you walked around with one green eye and one grey eye for a week last year?" James joked, sitting down next to them. "Sweet Godric, what's that smell?"

"Acne fighting foundation. Fights pimples while hiding them. Pure genius," Kenzie summed up.

"Also, Scorpius fancies your cousin," Moire added, throwing some peppermint in the mix before scrunching her nose.

"I do not!"

"Yeah right. Amortentia never lies."

"Isn't Amortentia in the sixth-year curriculum?" James asked, somewhat confused.

"Yes, but these pricks refused to concentrate on their work until Khan promised to show them what smelled so good if they finished early. So here we are."

"I smelled roses because my mother happens to grow some in the garden."

"I've been to your house, she doesn't," Albus reminded.

"Sod off, Al. How about you, smelling Alice Longbottom's hair?"

"The plot thickens!" Moire announced. "And so does this potion…"

"What did you smell last year, James?"

"Let's see… the inside of Honeydukes, the smell of the air when I'm really high up on my broom, and… well that last part is none of your business," he finished, not looking ashamed or sheepish.

"Oh, just wait until I tell mum you fancy someone!" Al smirked.

"You have no proof, all I said was that it wasn't any of your business," the eldest shrugged.

"How about you, Moire?" Kenzie asked.

"The moors in the Highlands in the morning, the apothecary, and…"

"And?"

"Cinnamon."

She cursed herself for not saying the library as Kenzie threw her a skeptical gaze that after years of close friendship Moire could translate as 'liar', but she did not say anything. There was no doubt, however, that she would interrogate her quite thoroughly later that night. Soon, Albus and Scorpius excused themselves as they had to attend their transfiguration class. McKenzie remembered in a panic that she was not quite done with her assignment for Lupin's class in half an hour and she almost ran over a group of terrified first year Hufflepuffs. James remained, as they would both have to head over to the same Defense Against the Dark Arts class, along with McKenzie, granted she was done with her homework before the beginning of class. He stayed quiet for a while, a feat Moire thought impossible from anyone in Gryffindor.

"Well that was quite the lie, earlier. You could've just done like me and said that it wasn't for them to know. You don't really owe it to them."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, still focusing on her potion.

"That last Amortentia smell."

"I said it was cinnamon, Potter, I wasn't lying," the lass snapped, finally looking up.

"It couldn't have been," he calmly answered, looking at her too intensely for her own taste.

"And why not?" Moire – very – annoyedly asked, sending her potion to her room with one flick of her wand, her nose still buzzing so much from the strong smell of her potion that if someone had waved a skunk under her nose, she wouldn't be able to get a whiff of it.

"Because you hate cinnamon."

James had said it very matter-of-factly, as if it was something everyone just _knew_. It wasn't. Yes, she avoided cinnamon like the plague, but Hogwarts usually had so many things to choose from that she had always just disregarded the dishes that smelled like the blasted spice and picked something else. Because of that, she did not fell the need to exactly tell anyone. She wasn't even sure Emma, Erin, and Leah knew and they had lived in the same room since they were first years, and Kenzie probably only figured out she lied since she knew perfectly well how Moire's nostrils flared up a bit when she wasn't telling the truth.

But James, apparently, knew.

_oOo_

On Saturday morning, during breakfast, Moire untied the box and the letter from the big, grave looking owl standing near her before tying her own to his leg, giving him a treat, and scratching his head.

"Fly safe, Socrates!" She wished, sending him on his way.

"That owl looks like he's about to give me a lecture every time he sees me," Erin said, watching Socrates fly away.

"He is, undoubtedly, the Laird's owl," McKenzie solemnly declared, standing up, eyes closed, and hand on her heart. "Socrates is the only bird worthy enough of the Laird's poise and dignity."

"Aaaaand here we go," Moire sighed.

"The Laird does not sleep, he merely allows his mortal body to rest as it could not quite keep track with his brain and the knowledge it keeps," Emma pompously added, resuming the same stance as Kenzie.

"The Laird is no mere man, he is an immortal judge of the human character."

Heads were already turning around from the Slytherin table at their antics.

"A philosopher."

"A scholar."

"Oh, are we talking about the Laird? I _have_ to listen to that," Albus delighted, sitting down near them.

"You all know my father has never claimed to be all that, right?" Moire commented, amused.

"We are aware, but your father is… your father."

True, her father was quite peculiar. He was a big, solemn looking man gifted with a strong moral compass, who was very particular with traditions, and with clear and concise ideas of what being a good wizard and ultimately a good person meant, and so was the rest of her family. Though the McLeoch clan was, as the Blacks and Malfoys were, a long line of Slytherins, and Pure Bloods for most, none had been sympathizers of Voldemort or even Grindelwald before him. They, instead, had deplored the vulgar turn their house had taken and the archaic beliefs they tried to spread.

"Please, do the voice," Scorpius begged.

"I am most definitely not doing the voice."

"Just once! C'mon, please!"

Almost failing to keep the smile in, Moire stood up and cleared her voice. Then, lowering it to a booming gruff tainted with the strongest Scottish accent she could muster, she said:

"Mind, lass, 'at us, McLeochs, hae led rebellions as baith wizards an' Scotts. We wear aer tartan wi' th' sam pride aer ancestors did. Honor, prime, an' excellence, 'tis was it means tae be a McLeoch!"

Moire, Kenzie, and Emma all collapsed on the bench laughing.

"You are all clinically insane," Scorpius mused. "But that did sound just like the Laird."

Still giggling, Moire checked her watch. It was still about nine thirty, so she had time to sneak a little morning flight. She excused herself and ran to her dorm to drop off her package (some of her mother's shortbread) and grab her broom (a brand-new Nimbus 3001, thank you very much, fastest broom on the market). The air outside was crisp and fresh and she took a second to appreciate her warm hoodie. Getting on her broom, she kicked off and smiled as the air slapped her face. She then started gaining altitude until he tips of her ears hurt and the goals on the Quidditch pitch looked like lollipops. Moire flew around there for a little before it got a bit too cold, then came back to a more reasonable height.

A half hour flew by quickly and she saw little red dots filling the pitch. Coming down, she was met with none other than James Potter, his hair already looking like he had flown at the full speed his broom could muster, and since it seemed like they had the same one, quite bloody fast. He ran a hand through it messing it up further and Moire remembered darker and more embarrassing times back in second year when she used to have a humongous crush on him and that gesture would drive her crazy. She had, thank Merlin, gotten over it with time and the rest of her love life was history.

"Time for Gryffindor practice?"

"Yeah. When's yours?"

"We have the pitch reserved for one this afternoon."

"Good luck, then."

"Likewise, Potter."

However, she froze in her spot for a whole second as he passed by her to join the rest of his team, when a slight smell of pine trees and citrus came from him. She all but sprinted back into the castle.

* * *

_I know I said a week, but I finished this earlier than expected and already started with the next one so I posted it. Let me know what you guys think in the reviews, and I'll see you in the next chapter!_


	3. The Thing About Lust

**The Thing About Lust **

Moire walked into her Herbology double-period with Gryffindor half a second before the bell rang.

"Miss McLeoch, just on time," Professor Longbottom commented.

"My apologies, Professor Longbottom. Professor Khan's third year class was a bit held up and I lost track of time. I have a note if needed."

"No need. Just take your spot. Wait… No, I put Weasley there for today. Go next to Potter instead."

Moire cursed her bad luck and Erin threw her an apologetic glance, misinterpreting her expression, while Fred Weasley was trying to balance his wand on his nose.

She had been avoiding Potter like the plague since she had found out that she could smell him in Amortentia the week prior. How did that even happen? Biting down on a curse that would've resulted in a week's worth of detention, she gingerly walked towards Potter, doing her best to not inhale too deeply. As he ruffled his hair next to her, her second-year self very audibly sighed in the back of her mind. Her present self sternly reprimanded her. Again, how did this even happen? She raked her mind, trying to piece everything together.

There was second year, of course, but the year after her shameful crush on the kid, and she shuddered remembering that she had ever been a bumbling blushing idiot every time she saw him, Albus had entered Hogwarts. She had taken pity on the scrawny and scared first-year whose whole family had been in Gryffindor until that point and the strong sense of loyalty and of right versus wrong drilled into her mind by the Laird had all come rushing to her. Moire had then taken upon her to go up to the young boy and his blond counterpart – whom he seemed to cling onto for dear life – and reassure them by showing them around the Slytherin common room. Contrary to popular belief, the Slytherin house was a rather tight knit one, and always had been. It had started in the olden days, when Slytherin still had a bad reputation and its members would be ostracized from the tender age of eleven just for being in it. Stories of terrified first years crying after being booed and glared at by the vast majority of the school were still told to that day to remind themselves that, in times of isolation, all they had was each other, and those same stories were what helped keep them united. Thus, first years were always reassured by at least one older member of the house, and for Albus Potter, it was Moire McLeoch. He had then introduced her to his entire family, from his older cousin Victoire, who was Head Girl on top of being stunningly beautiful, and eventually his adopted brother and Vic's boyfriend Teddy when he came to visit, all the way to his brother. Of course, at the time, though her crush had mostly subsided over summer, Moire still had a few butterflies in her stomach when he was involved, but then he opened his big, arrogant, annoying mouth and the argument that ensued after that was one that Hogwarts still remembered. After that, her interactions with James Sirius Potter had been snarky exchanges and sarcastic riposte. Until this summer.

Of course, she had spent time with the Weasleys and the Potters before, but it was only a couple of days at a time as she did not want to intrude. But she had been practically begged by Lily, who had said the entire family was expecting her at the annual Potter-Weasley get together, and if she did not come, Albus and Scorpius had sworn to get her themselves. Finally convinced that she would not, in fact, be a burden to the family, she sent her trunk to the Burrow the day before and Flooed over on the day agreed upon at eleven in the morning sharp (because, as the Laird had made it quite clear when she was growing up, arriving late was a way of saying that one's own time was more valuable that that of the person who waited for them), carrying a box of Fiona McLeoch's famous shortbread.

Though she had resumed her usual arguments with James under the amused glances of the rest of his family, they had become more playful and less vicious than they had previously been. Plus, they formed a wicked Quidditch team when playing two on two against the rest of the Weasley cousins. After the two weeks were over, she had gone over to her aunt's in Moscow and had met Aleksei. He was a rather sweet bloke, and quite handsome at that, but she had ended it within a few days, and hadn't thought about it twice. Sure, she should've felt bad, but then her cousin had shyly asked a couple of days later if it was alright for her to go on a date with him. Moire had shrugged, but Natalya had seemed so happy when she came back from said date that the redhead had smiled herself to sleep that night and had woken up with painful cheeks. The cousins wrote to each other often, and apparently the two lovebirds were getting along pretty good.

Moire jumped a bit as James elbowed her lightly and sent him a Ginny-Potter-approved death glare. He seemed a bit unnerved but otherwise quite unimpressed and cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" She whispered furiously.

"When you're back from whatever planet you were on, we have about ten minutes to extract the grains from the mean looking plant over here."

Looking at the Venomous Tentacula, Moire raised an eyebrow. The deep red flower was snapping its teeth in their general direction. People around them were already starting to curse as the plant attacked them.

"Tickle it," she simply said.

"Pardon?" He looked like she had just told him McGonagall enjoyed spitting from the top of the Astronomy Tower to see where it landed. "But Professor Longbottom said to –"

Sighing, Moire put her thick gloves on and tickled the plant under its mouth, right where the chin of a human would be. Immediately, the plant started to pant like a happy dog, its tong hanging from its teeth, and the Slytherin reached inside its mouth to gently remove three seeds. She got her hand out just in time before the plant started snapping again.

"Beautiful, you two! Ten points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor! Though I did say to hold the mouth open and press on the correct tentacle."

"I know Professor, but it would have taken too long, plus the risk of biting is increased. My mother said that most of the plants that bite can be calmed down with a tickle."

Neville laughed good-naturedly.

"Fiona has always had quite the green thumb. If you weren't so set on potions, Miss McLeoch, you'd be a brilliant Herbologist."

"I guess you have to know your plants before putting them in your cauldron," she answered with a smirk.

James threw an annoyed glare at her as Longbottom went to the next table.

"Is there _anything_, you're not good at?"

_I'm quite average at Transfiguration. Borderline shite, actually. _

"No, I'm amazing at everything."

He rolled his eyes and she replied with a smug raise of her eyebrows.

_oOo_

Leah and Kenzie looked at each other when they saw their roommate hiding behind a corner and looking suspiciously at the corridor it led to. They reached Moire but after a few seconds of them standing behind her and her not indicating that she had realize they were there, they decided to make their presence known.

"Are you alright?" Leah asked, making her jump.

"Are you insane?" She exclaimed, clutching her heart.

"Why in Merlin's lace knickers are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding!"

The pointed looks she received told her she wasn't fooling anyone.

"Okay, yeah, I'm hiding."

"And what exactly are you avoiding?"

"Errrr… The Ravenclaw dude I was making out with last time? Presley?"

"Okay, first of all, his name is Paul. Second of all, your nostrils flared up."

"Fine, I was avoiding James Potter!"

"What for?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"C'mon, you tell us everything, usually!"

"I can't, this one is embarrassing!"

"Can't be that bad."

"Yeah, it's not like you had a sex dream about the bloke, right?"

Her silence was everything they needed to know.

"You had a WHAT?"

"Will you both shut the hell up? I am NEVER living it down if he hears!"

"Forget him, you'll never live it down when Emma hears."

"What do you mean 'when'? You are _not _telling her!"

"C'mon, and break her little heart? She's been rooting for you two since second year!"

"You guys are dicks…"

"All the arguing turning you on?"

"Shut up, will you?"

_oOo_

Emma had effectively lost her mind. She had been jumping around the common room, running around, and screaming "I bloody knew it!" for about ten minutes now, and people were looking. Moire had buried her head in her hands, her neck and ears redder than Gryffindor's beard. Erin was laughing her absolute arse off, to which Moire put a mental reminder to smother her in her sleep, and the other two traitors were watching, amused.

"I knew you still fancied him!" She finally said, concluding her little dance.

"Shush!" Moire hissed at her. "And I do not fancy him! He's a good-looking bloke I guess, but nothing more! And will you lower your voice, I don't want the rumors to start spreading!"

"Then why did you dream you two shagged?"

"Because I don't know if yae have noticed or not, Emma, but I havnae gotten much action, lately!" Her roommate answered, her cheeks scarlet and her accent coming out slightly.

She was done for. By the end of the week, all of Hogwarts would know she had literally dreamt of shagging Potter and she could already see her reputation and pride go up in smoke.

"Ooh, who are you talking about?" His smaller, only slightly less annoying version asked, plopping himself on the couch next to the armchair she was currently trying to disappear into.

"None of your business, Albus," A perfect chorus of five answered him.

"Shite, you guys are rude!"

"So, what's your excuse?" Emma asked.

Thankfully, she had spoken at a normal volume and decided to not name drop since Albus was there.

"Did you not hear me say…?"

"Oh, I heard your bullshit explanation. But you're not lacking options, so it's not that."

Moire sighed.

"I'll tell you later. We're in the middle of the common room."

She had hoped that Emma would have forgotten by the time the girls would go up to their dorm and go to bed. But she had not. And if she was fully honest with herself, Erin, the eternal arsehole, would have reminded her.

"So! What's going on with Potter."

"Nothing is going on with Potter," she answered, putting on an old t-shirt way too large for her with some muggle band on it she must have stolen from one of her old boyfriends. Come to think of it, she could not remember who she had gotten it from.

"So why are you dreaming of shagging him? You know what I say about dreams…"

"Oh, will you shut up. I don't _secretly _want to shag him. My subconscious is not sending me a message."

"I'm enjoying this so much," Leah whispered to McKenzie, earning her a pillow viciously thrown to her face.

"There must be a reason you're dreaming of him now if it was random. Why not the past few years? Why does it ha-," she insisted before being cut off in the middle of her sentence by a very annoyed Moire.

"I smelled him in Amortentia, are you fucking happy?"

There was a deafening silence before…

"I KNEW YOU SMELLED SOMEONE! CINNAMON, MY ARSE!" Kenzie yelled, shooting up from where she was sitting on the bed, scaring her very white, very fluffy cat in the process.

"Does that mean you fancy him?"

"Don't be ridiculous Leah. All this means is that he smells good."

"Sure, we're going with that."

"It's not like I fancy the bloke. Sure, he's not so bad when you get to know him, and he's decent looking, but it doesn't go past that."

"What about the sex dream?"

"Like I said, he's decent looking. That's the thing about lust, it's rather shallow, nothing too deep. So, drop it, Em."

To make her point, Moire strode to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, scaring the cat again, and soon after, the four other girls in the dorm heard the shower turn on.

"Whatever. I'll remind her of this at her wedding with Potter in five years."

"I HEARD THAT!" Came from behind the door.

* * *

_The plot thickens! As usual, let me know if you liked this chapter in the reviews, and I'll see you in the next chapter!_


	4. The Prefects' Bathroom

**The Prefects' Bathroom**

Grimacing as she lowered her aching body into the large tub in the Prefects' bathroom, Moire let out a small hiss as her tender ribs and stiff shoulders touched the piping hot water. Little by little, she managed to somewhat relax. She had had a love-hate relationship with Quidditch season due to the intense training it required, though she had to admit that the privilege coming with the title of Captain allowing her to use the giant tub and fragrant soaps and oils was a plus that the rest of the team didn't have. It was especially nice when it had been exceptionally muddy and rainy outside as October had just began, resulting in the team being in a foul mood and heading straight to their dorms after practice. Moire had even heard Scorpius and Albus argue over who got to use the shower first as she separated from the group to head straight towards the oh-so-prized Prefects' bathroom.

The two shitheads had been extra unfocused during their practice, resulting in about three quarters of her injuries, the Bludgers having touched her ribs twice in the same spot and hit her in the shoulder. Her padding spell had absorbed enough of the shock to avoid any damage requiring a visit to the Hospital Wing, but she _knew _the bruising would be bad. It had already started appearing, a very faint greenish blue against her pale skin, extending all across her left side from above her hip bone to under her breast and all over her shoulder.

"Whatever those two bloody fuckers were distracted with better have been worth it," she mumbled.

Her voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. She attempted to roll her shoulder, but the pain seemed to be getting worse. Maybe she should pay a visit to Matron Hannah Longbottom, formerly Abbott, after her bath. She was in no hurry though, and she slowly scrubbed herself before refilling the tub once more, content with just sitting in the hot water. Moire did not leave until she looked up to the window and saw that the sky was significantly darker than when she had entered the bathroom, having left Gryffindor to practice about an hour before sunset, just as the rain had stopped. Difficultly, she hoisted herself out of the tub and dried herself with one of the fluffy white towels restocked by the elves. However, looking at the corner of the room where she usually left her bag during her after practice bath, she couldn't find it. Cursing herself, she realized she had left it in the shared room.

The Prefects' bathroom was divided in two sides, one for girls and one for boys, per Hogwarts' old-fashioned standards. The two rooms were practically identical, both containing a tub the size of a swimming pool, several sinks and mirrors, and roughly two dozen toilet stalls. There was a separate entrance for both of the bathrooms, both protected by passwords. However, someone had had the totally useless idea to put a little hallway between the two, complete with stone benches and racks, and closed off on both sides with curtains. There was a spell put in place so that the boys could not open the curtains leading to the girls' side of the bathroom, and vice versa. The area had been deemed neutral and students could hang their robes or jackets, or drop their bags containing their change of clothes or personal belongings off on of the benches if they wished, though most preferred to take it with them. However, Moire had needed to sit for a second, drained from practice, and had decided to take off her muddy clothes in the neutral area instead of the pristine bathroom. That's when, she assumed, her bag had been left forgotten on the bench. Wrapping the towel around herself, she ventured in the hallway.

Thankfully, it had been empty. She quickly slipped on clean pair of underwear and warm muggle sweatpants. Putting on her bra had been a challenge and it took a painstakingly long time to fasten it due to her throbbing shoulder, which reaffirmed her need to go see Longbottom. She looked at her long-sleeved shirt apprehensively, knowing the process of putting it on would hurt like a bitch, but as she was about to start the dreaded task, the curtains on the boys' side opened up, revealing none other than the reason for most of her headaches these past couple of weeks. James Potter blinked twice, not immediately realizing what was going on, before his hazel eyes widened, his cheeks turning the color of the scarf he held in his hands. He sputtered for a bit before regaining control of his movements, swiftly closing the curtain.

"I'm so sorry, McLeoch! I was just coming for my shoes! I didn't think someone would still be here! Please don't kill me, I didn't see anything."

Moire was sure that her own cheeks were rather red. She spotted said shoes under the opposite bench and cursed herself for her lack of attention. Potter was still rambling excuses behind the curtain. She let out a sigh.

"It's fine, Potter. I should've taken my bag next door with me."

"I'll wait until you're done," he assured.

It would take a long time. In fact, Moire realized as she tried to put the shirt on, this was not going to happen anytime soon. Her shoulder refused to move an inch without protesting now, and she weighed her options before biting back a curse.

"… Potter?"

"Yes?" He sounded a little scared.

"I… I hurt my shoulder. Bad. And I can't… I can't move it. Can you help me?"

There was a short silence, before the curtain opened slowly, revealing a very red James Potter. His wet hair seemed to be sticking out more than when he had first walked in on her, and she assumed his nervous tick of running his hand through it had resurfaced.

"I got you," he said somewhat caringly.

James' eyebrows furrowed when he took a better look at her. She knew she looked a mess. The large bruise on her side was already turning a darker blue than before, definitely visible now. He palpated her shoulder gently.

"It's swelling up. Merlin, what _happened _to you?"

"Your bloody brother is what," she grunted, her cheeks tainted pink by the whole situation. "The twat was distracted at practice, and so was the other one, and as a result, I got my arse kicked by Bludgers.

Very gently, with a softness she didn't think James Potter capable of, he helped her put her injured arm through her sleeve and her head through the collar of the shirt. The rest went smoothly and mostly in silence as James picked his muddy practice shoes from under the bench and hit them with a quick _Tergeo_ and stuffing them in his bag. He picked hers up next.

"C'mon, I'm walking you to the Hospital Wing."

"What makes you think I'm going there?" Bullshit, she was.

"I don't think anything. I'm _taking you _there. And I don't think it would be very wise of you to argue."

"Fine. Help me up."

Her side, though not as bad as her shoulder, made it difficult for her to stand up. So, when James offered his arm, she took it. She didn't expect for it to be this hard. Seriously, did the man have rocks under his skin or something? Shaking off the thought, she stood up and opened the curtain.

"See you on the other side, McLeoch?"

"Sure, just don't be bragging to the Hogwarts population that you saw Moire McLeoch's tits, will ye?"

"No promises," he laughed, a slight tinge of red still coloring his cheeks.

She exited through her side, taking tiny steps, and when she opened the bathroom door, James was waiting for her, both their bags on his shoulder. He offered her arm for her to lean on again, which she refused for the first half of the trip before the aching in her ribs prevented her from standing straight on her own. She was painfully aware of the looks and whispers as they walked through the hallways, which were just beginning to fill up with people going to get dinner. By the time they reached the Hospital Wing, it had seemed to Moire that she had seen at least half of Hogwarts and was ready for the ground to swallow her whole.

Matron Longbottom had fussed over her for a bit before making her drink a couple of potions, which she assured would help numb the pain soon, and wrapping her shoulder up so it wouldn't move too much. She had closed the curtains around her bed with a raised eyebrow at James before helping Moire take her shirt off, which was funny in its own way. However, she bit back any snarky comment about how James had seen it already, since Matron Longbottom was technically his godmother, and saying anything would most likely end up reaching Ginevra Potter's ears. Hannah had, however, discharged her quite fast, assuring her that she would feel better soon and there was no way for her to stay overnight. When she had exited from behind the curtains, James was still there. He diligently walked her back to the Dungeons, and just like during the summer break, Moire had to admit he was a rather nice bloke and had come a long way since their third year.

"Thanks, Potter."

"No problem. Feel better. Let me know if you need another strong arm to hold you up." Or maybe not.

The laughing glint behind his glasses told her he was kidding, and she allowed a smile to stretch her lips.

"You'll be the first I call."

He helped her hoist her bag on her good shoulder and she uttered the password before entering the common room.

In retrospect, she probably should've insisted to sleep at the Hospital Wing.

"Well fuck, McLeoch, didn't know you had the hots for my brother. I thought you had higher standards than that," Albus teased, looking like Christmas had just come early.

She squinted at him and pointed an accusing finger as the rest of the common room had silenced up, following the newest gossip.

"Listen to me you fucking prick. Your brother had to take me to the Hospital Wing after you and the other idiot fucked around at practice thinking of Salazar knows what and landed three Bludgers on me! So, you two do not get to participate in the gossip because it would not have occurred if you had fucking focused!"

Or at least, that's what she meant to say. However, in her state of fury at the two dumbasses, her accent came out. Big time. What exited her mouth instead sounded more like:

"Listen tae me ye feckin' prick. Yer brither hud tae tak' me tae th' Hospital Win' efter ye an' th' other divit fucked aroond at practice thinkin' ay Salazar knows whit an' landed thee Bludgers oan me! Sae ye tois dinnae gie tae pure dae it in th' blether coz it woods nae hae occurred if ye hud feckin' focused!"

Years of living with Moire had turned McKenzie fluent in Pissed-Off-McLeoch, which she translated to a very confused Albus who at least had the decency of looking somewhat guilty.

"You know the rumors will keep going, right?" Ever so sensible Erin warned.

"Eh, it'll blow over. They'll find some other scandal to focus on in two days, I reckon."

_oOo_

They didn't. For the next month, well into the start of November, all the rest of the student population did was gossip about James Potter and Moire McLeoch's alleged relationship and what they were up to. If they so much as nodded to each other in passing, the hallways would explode in not so subtle whispers, varying between "They look so cute together" and "I don't know what he sees in her" (those mostly from James' admirers), but the one that had almost made Moire hex someone was the "Oh, finally, I was getting sick of all the sexual tension between those two." Olivia Thompson had almost jumped her, but Moire, who had been looking for an excuse to draw her wand, had taken care of it with a Bat Bogey hex before going back to her day.

The rumors had Moire in a permanent state of crankiness, and she used her foul mood and rage to fuel her during the first Quidditch game of the season, positively crushing Hufflepuff. A memorable moment had been when the commentator had said that she had been playing beautifully, and that Potter was proud from where he was sitting in the bleachers. In her anger, she had hit the Quaffle coming in her direction so hard with the tail of her broom that it had flown more than halfway across the field, past the stunned Hufflepuff team. However, after the two long seconds it had taken to zoom across the Quidditch pitch, the players had all seemed to awaken. It was thankfully intercepted by McLaughlin, who had taken it the rest of the way and scored against Hufflepuff. Needless to say, they had won the game by a very large margin. Later on, she was seen snogging a seventh year Gryffindor who was not James Potter. That's what it had taken for the Hogwarts population to stop spreading stories about James and Moire.

"So, what ended up happening with David McLaggen?" Rose asked, on their way to the Prefects' bathroom.

"Who?"

"The guy you were snogging last night? After your victory against Hufflepuff?"

"Oh! Yeah, nothing. He was quite self absorbed, so I excused myself, and went back to my room. And then later that night, I went to fly on the pitch for a bit with Potter."

"I thought he was doing homework with Scorpius last night?"

"James, not Albus."

Rose gave her a pointed look as she gave the password to the bathroom.

"What?"

"You and James flew together?"

"Yeah, he was already there so we raced for a bit, and then just tossed a Quaffle around."

"Moire, the rumors just stopped, do you want them to start again?"

"It's not like that, we're honestly just mates. Which I can't believe I just said about James Potter."

It was true, since he had helped her get to the Hospital Wing, she had found herself almost enjoying his presence. He had been _not_ entirely insufferable and Moire had to admit, he was rather funny at times. Of course, their newly born friendship had only fueled the rumors, which did not help her little nighttime issues, resulting in her waking up panting and clutching her sheets, toes curled, an annoyingly warm feeling between her legs. Her sex dreams had reoccurred, about three or four times, since then and each time, it seemed a bit harder to get her bearings again. So, to avoid that happening again, she had brewed a No-Dream Potion that she took every night.

"Whatever, Moire, just don't tell me I didn't warn you," Rose shrugged, taking her clothes off to reveal her bathing suit. She fumbled a bit with the knobs before deciding on a combination of roses and coconut scented bubbles.

The tub filled slowly as Moire folded her own clothes into her bag.

"Also, Aunt Ginny just wanted to confirm you will be attending Teddy and Vic's wedding?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. But you guys have been invited by the Laird to attend the family gathering right after. It starts on the evening of Christmas Day, so I'd spend half the break at yours, and you'll finally come to the Manor for the other half."

"Family gathering? That sounds quite interesting."

"It usually is. The whole clan meets up once a year and we all party every single day until New Year's Day. It's my favorite time of the year."

"I'd personally be honored to come! And I'm sure the others will as well. I'll owl Mum later tonight."

"Well that's settled in that case. Scorpius is also invited, by the way."

Rose's cheeks flamed up.

"That's a good thing, not that it would affect my judgement."

"Yeah, right. Sandalwood," Moire smirked, getting in the swimming pool-like tub. With satisfaction, she saw Rose's already red cheeks turn even redder.

_oOo_

"You're doing it wrong," Moire pointed, stepping away from her cauldron and over to James'. She, along with Emma who was her partner for the class, were already done with theirs.

"Oh, believe me, I _know_," her answered, eyebrows furrowed. His hair growing potion was supposed to turn a light blue, but it was instead a deep purple. Fred had seemed to give up and was currently stacking ingredients together, attempting to make a tower out of it.

Professor Khan liked her class to be a bit on the noisier side. She allowed her students to walk around, trading ingredients, and giving each other pointers and hints. For her first and second year, Moire had had Professor Slughorn before he had finally retired, and though the man was a good teacher, his class was much quieter. She had found enjoying the buzz of the class and had gotten the opportunity to learn several tricks from her classmates over the past few years that had allowed her to perform her potion making.

"Let's see. You added the pixie wings?"

"Yes."

"How about the mandrake leaves?"

"I did."

"Two drops of bulbadox juice?"

"Yes, I clearly remember adding them."

Fred looked up from his stack.

"You? Mate, I was the one who added them."

The two cousins looked at each other before realizing their mistake.

"Alright, so twice as much bulbadox juice then. You just have to neutralize the two extra drops and stir well until it turns blue. Then, turn the heat off, and keep stirring until you reach the shade of blue it should be."

"And exactly how does one neutralize bulbadox juice?"

"Come on, Potter, you know that one. We went over it in the revisions essay last week."

He thought for a second, and Moire couldn't help but look at his bottom lip, which he had a nervous habit of nibbling when he was in deep thought.

"Dragon blood!" He exclaimed suddenly, making her jump and breaking her trance. "Adding dragon blood can neutralize certain corrosive ingredients, including bulbadox juice, granted an equal amount of blood has been added."

"Textbook definition, Potter. Good job. So, if you add two drops of dragon blood to neutralize the two extra drops of bulbadox juice, and follow the instructions I just gave you, you should be fine."

Thankfully, she had managed to keep her trademark smirk on, and hadn't been betrayed by her cheeks. Why the hell was she looking at Potter's lips?!

_oOo_

"We have _got_ to stop meeting in the Prefects' bathroom," Moire said, eyebrow raised, as she walked into the neutral room, her hair still wet from her bath, where James had thankfully just finished getting dressed.

"Well, at least this time at least, you're not half naked," he smirked.

"Careful, Potter, the rumors just stopped recently, we wouldn't want them to start again. Thompson almost gouged my eyes out the first time. Besides, don't act as if you didn't appreciate the view."

He at least had the decency to blush.

"Great job against Ravenclaw by the way. I didn't get a chance to congratulate you guys since someone was surrounded by half the female population in Hogwarts."

"Are you admitting I'm handsome, McLeoch?"

This time, she blushed.

"I'm kidding. But thank you."

There was a silence during which she sat down and laced up her shoes.

"By the way, I don't know if Rose told you yet, but you're invited to the Manor this winter. After Vic's wedding, of course."

"She must've forgotten to tell me. But thank you for the invitation."

"Hey, your family had to put up with me this summer. Now, it's only fair you guys get a taste of what partying like a McLeoch is. It's not for the faint of heart, I must warn you."

James laughed. Moire had realized over the two weeks she had spent at the Burrow that he had a contagious kind of laugh that seemed to bounce around the room and made you want to join in.

"I'll keep that in mind," he answered, his still sparkling with laughter behind his glasses.

"Hope you can hold your liquor. My cousins and I are not known for going easy."

"The Laird must be proud."

"What happens in the Manor's barn stays in the Manor's barn. No parents are allowed. Besides, what the Laird doesn't know cannot hurt him."

He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled fondly at her, and she hated herself for it, but her heart sped up a bit as it reminded her of the way he smiled in her last dream as he held her against him, their bodies intertwined. She forced herself out of it.

_This is exactly why I take the No Dream potion_, she thought, realizing she had been standing motionless, a faraway look on her face, for too long.

If he had noticed anything, he didn't say it. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, and the citrusy pine trees hit her square in the nose.

"I have to go… Library… Lily's potions homework…," she stuttered out, which made James raise an eyebrow, before grabbing her bag and running out.

* * *

_Hey guys! Sorry for the late chapter. Next one should be posted shortly. Leave a review to let me know what you think of this one and I'll see you soon!_


	5. Hogsmeade

**Hogsmeade**

On the first week of December, spirits were high for third years and up. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year was finally there, along with a fresh, thick layer of blindingly white snow.

"C'mon, boys! Rise and shine!" James, already showered and dressed, exclaimed, a large smile on his lips. "Today is Hogsmeade day!"

"Will you shut the bloody hell up, James," Fred mumbled from under his pillow, having smothered his face with it to shield his eyes from the bright sun coming into the room as James was joyfully opening the curtains.

"I'm going to throw him off his broom at the next Quidditch practice, I swear," Thomas Wood sighed, sitting up. There was no way their excited puppy of a roommate was going to let them go back to sleep.

Declan Thomas-Finnigan had not stirred during the entirety of their argument, snoring with his mouth wide open, while August Jordan's bed was empty, and the shower was on.

"C'mon, I heard Uncle Ron and Uncle George came up with some new stuff and are releasing it at the Hogsmeade shop today!"

That definitely got Fred up, who shot straight out of his bed and ran to the bathroom, which got a surprised yelp out of August. James, seeing that Declan was the only one who was still asleep, threw himself on his bed, effectively waking him up with a startled squeal.

"Wake up! It's Hogsmeade day!"

After a rather colorful string of words left Declan's mouth.

"MOVE YOUR FAT ARSE POTTER, I CAN'T BREATHE!" He finally concluded. James, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content laying there.

"Are you getting out of bed if I do?" He asked joyfully.

"FINE, YOU TOSSER, JUST GET UP."

The next five minutes were pure chaos, as James, who had finally released Declan, was chased by the very pissed off boy. Laughing gleefully, the eldest Potter grabbed his coat and map, and ran down the stairs and into the common room where he wasn't followed. Figuring his friends would just join him later, he left the dormitories through the portrait hole and headed to breakfast.

The Great Hall was rather empty. Breakfast had just started about fifteen minutes prior and still had a couple hours to go, and only a few students were up early enough to enjoy the bright morning. His eyes fell on the Slytherin table where, unsurprisingly, Moire was sitting down, enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of treacle tart, with a copy of the Daily Prophet open next to her. As usual, his stomach knotted a bit, as she was still terrifying, before he reminded himself that they were sort of mates now. Her smiles had become less threatening and were instead gentler, making her eyes twinkle a bit in a child-like way. James, deciding against sitting at his own table, made his way towards her and sat opposite to her.

"Good morrow, fair maiden!" He gleefully greeted her.

"Are you always so chipper at the crack of dawn, Potter?" She asked, raising her eyebrow, but a hint of a smile on her pink lips. Not that James noticed her lips were pink or anything.

"Just on Hogsmeade day! I'm more toned down usually. Didn't know you were an early riser, McLeoch."

"Do you really think the Laird would raise me any other way? No matter how much I want to sleep in, I always wake up at six in the morning."

"How is it that we spent two weeks in the same house this summer and I never once noticed?"

"Well, I usually just got up and showered and I went back to the room I shared with Rose and Lily to read a bit and waited for them to be up before breakfast," Moire explained, taking a sip of her tea.

"Shame, I could've maybe not had breakfast alone," James answered, shaking his head.

"Didn't peg you for a bright and early kind of bloke."

"It's a curse really."

"At the same time, thank god we didn't, we would've strangled each other."

"We'll have time to this winter, don't you worry. Although Grandma Molly will probably wake the whole house up for wedding preparations… It's the first wedding in the family since my parents'," James mused, shuddering at what was waiting for them.

"I haven't been to a wedding in a few years, I'm rather excited. The last one I attended was when I was a little girl. That was quite a boring deal. My grandfather was still alive then and he was a man of tradition, so the end result was relatively dull."

"I wouldn't worry about that. Any Weasley-Potter affair is usually never boring."

"Oh, I'm aware. Your family is interesting to say the least," Moire chuckled. "Although mine has made some progress in the department when it comes to holidays."

"Does that have anything to do with the Manor's barn by any chance?" James smirked.

"Well, like I said, my grandfather was a very old-fashioned man. So, when my father, his sisters, and their cousins were younger, they would get bored at family gatherings since my grandfather would keep it very prim and proper. So, all of the teenagers would just go hang out in the barn and sing, dance, and drink until the big New Year's Eve party, and even when that was over, they'd go to the barn again and properly celebrate until morning. Little by little, they just started to bring in their younger cousins, and from there the tradition was born. Now that Grandfather has passed though, the main party has become a lot more like what we do at the barn, but we are still keeping the tradition alive."

"What am I supposed to expect at the barn?" The Gryffindor asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Nothing too wild," Moire answered sporting the same expression as him. "Just lots of Scottish Firewhiskey from the Laird's personal cellar, Butterbeer for the young'uns, drunken singing, some dancing, and just general fucking around."

"I'm all for it," he reassured.

"Good morning…?" James heard from behind him.

He turned around to see that Erin had spoken to him, seeming a little taken aback at seeing him at their table. Her eyebrow was arched in a way that resembled Headmistress McGonagall and almost disappeared under her black bang. She was followed by Emma, whose blue eyes were blinking at a rapid pace, as if she was not comprehending the scene that was unfolding before her.

"Ladies, good of you to finally come down. Kenzie and Leah still asleep?" Moire asked, bringing James' attention to her.

The eldest Potter swore he could see the faintest tinge of red on her cheeks, but she seemed unfazed and unimpressed, her teacup slowly making its way to her mouth. She grimaced after taking a sip and threw a quick warming charm at it before drinking some more, seeming a lot more satisfied the second time around. Had they been talking for so long that her tea had gotten cold?

"Your conversation must have been quite stimulating because Potter's friends have been waving at him since we got to the Great Hall. I suspect they were attempting to get your attention for quite a while now," Erin said again.

From the times he had interacted with Erin, James had gotten to understand that she was a very careful talker. Though she always spoke in a measured tone, her words seemed to be sensibly weighed and there was more often than not another meaning there. His suspicions were confirmed when she threw a pointed gaze at Moire, whose cheeks slightly reddened, as she kept a neutral face and pretended to inspect her impeccably maintained nails.

As he looked past Moire's shoulder towards the Gryffindor table, he noticed his mates were gesturing quite obnoxiously in his direction. When Fred, who had been sporting an annoyed expression on his face, noticed that James' eyes had finally fallen on them, his efforts doubled.

"Well… I guess I'll leave you ladies. Enjoy your day."

A concert of jumbled you toos answered him, Moire's a bit more mumbled than the two others, and James was on his way over to the Gryffindor table. He bit down a curse when he realized Albus and Scorpius were also at the table, as well as Lily, Rose, and Roxanne.

"Here we go!" His brother gleefully announced.

"What in Merlin's knickers was _that _about?" August asked, making a tired Declan cringe in his coffee.

"I don't know what you're on about," James answered, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs and toast.

"You, chatting up Moire McLeoch at the Slytherin table. We didn't say anything when the rumors started spreading because we know you're terrified of her, but something is up."

When the rumor mill had started running after he had helped her get to the Hospital Wing, the lads were sensible enough to not say much. They had asked if it was true, and he had said no, closing the debate. James had also seen how annoyed Moire had been getting and had decided to not aggravate her further, instead being a friend. And he had to admit, when he did not go out of his way to tease her to compensate for the fact that, yes, she scared the crap out of him, she became a lot nicer to him, and it brought him back to the two weeks she spent at the Burrow, where it seemed, very briefly, like they were becoming friendlier to each other.

"First of all, I am not scared of Moire, and second, nothing is up. We were just having a nice conversation," he said, shoving toast in his mouth.

"You're full of shite, James Sirius Potter," Thomas argued back, cocking an eyebrow.

"Even if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business," James snapped, starting to get slightly fed up. his little outburst echoed a bit in the near empty hall, causing heads to turn towards him. His gaze crossed Moire's and she frowned, concerned. If she was going to mouth something to him, she decided against it and instead hesitantly turned back to her conversation.

"Is everything alright here?" A deep voice asked from behind them.

Teddy had walked over from the professors' table, which was also quite bare aside from him, Professor Longbottom, Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Khan, and Professor Flitwick.

"Yeah, just some people being dickheads," James answered, trying to hide is annoyance.

"Not fair, we didn't even say anything!" Roxanne exclaimed.

Teddy sighed heavily.

"James, we talked about this, I might be your brother but I'm also your Professor, so you probably shouldn't use the term dickheads when speaking with me."

"Teddy, I watched you shit your pants asking Vic to marry you, you're lucky I even call you Professor in class."

"Dickhead," Teddy mumbled.

"He's just pissy because we interrupted his conversation with his girlfriend," Rose said, not looking up from her copy of the Daily Prophet.

Teddy raised an eyebrow as James facepalmed.

"So, the rumors were true? Aunt Ginny is going to be so happy. She did always like Moire."

"Okay, for the last time, no, the rumors were not true. She was hurt because Al and Scorpius were being idiots at Quidditch practice, and all I did was help her get to the Hospital Wing."

"Where did you find her, by the way? We looked for her and couldn't find her anywhere," Albus asked, frowning.

"Oh, good morning, Alice!" James loudly said, seeing the young girl approach, turning his brother into a bumbling mess. "Al, look, it's Alice!"

Needless to say, Neville, who had heard the exchange, promised himself to be more watchful of his daughter and Albus.

_oOo_

All bundled up in their robes and their red and gold scarves, James and his mates made their ways through Hogsmeade, James still acting like an overexcited puppy. Rose, Al, Roxy, Hugo, and Scorpius had left them as soon as they had reached the town, as they wanted to hit Honeydukes before it got crowded. James knew better: go to the prank stores first, then go to Vic's for some food during rush hour, followed by a period of free time where everyone went to do as they wanted, go to the Three Broomsticks when it started dying down a little for a couple butterbeers, then a trip to Scrivenshaft's quill shop, and finally, as his mates went back to Hogwarts, he made a trip to Honeydukes when the store had emptied out and the shelves were being restocked with fresh candies and chocolates in case any new customer walked in. Generally, his mates who were always skeptical of his method, went during the free time. But James had never been failed by his tricks and he always ended up just roaming around the village or staying a little while longer at his cousin's little café.

Per their usual route, they started with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. And as always, Ron and George always made sure to be at the Hogsmeade location the day Hogwarts students were scheduled to visit the village.

"Well, if it isn't our favorite customers!" George laughed.

"Took you kids long enough!" Ron jokingly chastised. "We wouldn't have been able to hold some of our best products for you if you had been any longer!"

"We would've been here sooner, but someone was busy flirti-HEY!" Fred's sentence had been interrupted by a kick in the shin from James. Slightly too late.

"Oh, Ginny is going to _love_ this!" George exclaimed, delighted.

"For fuck's sake!" James groaned. "There was no flirting. Can't a bloke have a simple conversation with a mate who happens to be a girl?"

"Is it a pretty girl?" Ron nudged him, a smirk on his face.

"Moire McLeoch is conventionally attractive, that is true."

"Conventionally he says," Fred repeated, amused.

"Did you just say Moire McLeoch? Ginny is REALLY going to love this,"

This carried on the entirety of their visit to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which ended with James practically running out of the store with his purchases, Ron yelling after him that love potions were available but strongly frowned upon. He headed to Vic's before all the others, his cheeks crimson red, mumbling about idiots.

Vic's Café was what had become of Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. When Vic had finished Hogwarts, the shop had been closing down, and she had decided to rent out the space. A major renovation later, the crowded, overly pink shop had become a more aired out space, painted in bright pastels, decorated with climbing plants and flowers, lined with booths and tables, and a few seats were available at the bar. It had become a popular space for couples to go on dates but there was always a table available for them on Hogsmeade day.

"Hi James! Where did the others go?" Vic greeted him cheerfully. She was at the register and had been busy talking to Teddy, who had sat down at the bar.

"They're right behind," he mumbled back, walking towards one of the more spacious booths with a _Reserved_ sign on it.

"Are you alright?" She asked, amused. Something told him Teddy had already told her something about that morning's incident.

"Never better," the eldest Potter sarcastically snapped as his mates, out of breath, walked in with a chorus of hellos for their professor and Victoire.

"Did Moire say if she was coming to the wedding?" Vic asked with a smirk, causing Teddy to choke on his coffee and proceed to cough and laugh at the same time.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

_oOo_

After an hour at Victoire's, James headed out. He had half a mind to stay, but the entire lunch had consisted of his cousin, her fiancé, and his mates making fun of him, so he was quite looking forward to the next hour of being alone. To James, walking around Hogsmeade always brought him back to his third year where, his eyes sparkling and a smile splitting his face in two. Of course, by the end of the day, he had been able to get in no less than three fights with Moire. Third year had been quite an interesting one in that aspect, with James always feeling the need to provoke her from the second Albus had introduced the two of them. To be quite honest, no one remembered exactly what their first fight was about, let alone James. All everyone knew was that the screaming match that ensued had ended with Moire about two seconds away from lunging at him and choking him with her bare hands, but had been held back by Fred and McKenzie, and while James kept a smirk on, he had been just about ready to shit his pants. James ran a hand through his hair, frustratingly wondering how he had managed to circle his thoughts back to Moire. It was like he could hear her voice.

"Potter?"

Oh, wait. She was actually calling his name.

"McLeoch. What brings you here?" He smiled, trying to keep his cool.

He noticed his steps had brought him near a small clothing shop in a quiet corner of the village. Hers too, apparently.

"The girls headed over to Honeydukes, so I went window shopping instead."

"You didn't want any sweets?"

"Oh, I do. But it'll be crowded now. It's much better to go…"

"At the end of the day," they both said at the same time. Her eyes twinkled a bit as she smiled at him.

"That way they restock on fresh items," James added.

There was a small silence as Moire looked at the clothing shop window. He followed her gaze only to see a long emerald green dress staring right back at him. The top part of it seemed to be made of lace, from the translucent sleeves with their floral motif, to the bodice, lined with an opaque material of the same color, and plunged into a taunting yet still elegant V. The waist was more cinched before the long skirt cascaded out in a heavier material. Then, a rather vivid image of Moire in the dress, her thick auburn hair cascading down her back, the gold speckles in her brown eyes shining…

"You should get it," he heard himself say. She frowned at the dress, not bothering to turn around and look at him. "For the New Year's Eve party?"

"I already have plenty of dresses. Besides, I have to wear my clan tartan for that."

"It doesn't change the fact that you would look beautiful in it."

James almost just bashed his head into the window right there and then. Moire's head turned towards him so hard his neck hurt just seeing it, and her eyes opened wide, staring at him flabbergasted.

"I mean… what I was going to say is… it's…," he stuttered miserably, his brain finally taking over his traitor of a mouth that had been moving without his accord, unable to justify whatever the _fuck_ he had just said.

Moire's shocked expression was replaced by a sly grin, and his only indication that she might feel as embarrassed as him was her ears turning a violent shade of red.

"And how could you tell I'd look good in this, exactly?" She asked defiantly.

Her attempt at bringing things back to normal allowed his mouth to once again act without permission.

"Well, I'm a Potter. Considering our record with redheads, we know what they look good in."

Stupid traitor of a mouth. Still, Moire's smirk stayed on her lips, and he was more convinced that she was out to get him.

"Oh, there you are!" He heard from behind him.

"You guys done buying sweets?" Moire asked who James recognized to be McKenzie, still maintaining eye contact with him.

"Yeah, we're wait- oh. Hi, Potter."

"Hey," he simply answered, a knot in his throat forming from the intense look he was under. Moire finally turned to look at the dress one last time, before heading towards Kenzie.

"I'll get going. But who knows, Potter. Maybe we'll see each other around again today."

_oOo_

James frowned as he dove into his butterbeer. The soft liquid descended down to his stomach, the familiar heat settling in his belly, joining the knot in his stomach. He knew from the second Moire had walked away, not sparing him a last glance, that he would look for a thick mane of auburn hair and gold speckled deep brown eyes for the rest of the day. They passed by the new little apothecary on their way to the quill shop and he had looked at the quaint building in a way that Declan had described as longing, almost sure Moire was inside. He could almost convince himself he had seen a flash of deep red, but it had most likely been his imagination. Their whole visit to the quill shop, he had been on edge, absentmindedly grabbing way more inkwells than he needed, nervously glancing at the door, every time the bell above it chimed with a new customer.

"You're looking at that door like Merlin himself is going to walk in," Thomas commented, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm not," James defensively said, and that was the end of any further comments.

It did not stop the concerned glances between the other four. James could see them from the corner of his eye, but as long as they didn't speak of his strange behavior, he would pretend he didn't notice anything. They exited the shop, and the boys hesitated.

"I'm going to pick up some candy at Honeydukes. You guys can head over, if you want."

They looked at each other, before Fred shrugged and waved him goodbye. The three others followed his lead, and as soon as their backs were turned, James practically sprinted to Honeydukes. He caught himself running and slowed his pace. Forcing himself to walk at a normal speed to the candy shop, he finally reached the door, and opened it, his heart pounding. Looking around frantically, he realized the familiar red locks were nowhere to be seen. He felt his shoulders slump slightly as he walked into the store.

For the next half hour or so, he browsed the aisles as slowly as he could. Other customers came and went, and just like the quill shop, his head whipped towards the door every time he heard the door open. He was finally starting to come to the realization that she had probably gone back to the castle and that her words had not been an invitation to see him later, when he heard a voice with a carefully contained Scottish accent speak up from behind him.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were waiting for me Potter."

It took every ounce of will in James' body not to turn around too fast. Instead, he composed himself, and slowly came around to face her, a trademark smirk on his face.

"Can't a man shop for his candy without being accused of such a thing?"

She was holding a few bags and from where he stood, he could see that the majority of them contained dried herbs and ingredients, one had a few quills coming out of it, and the last one, much bigger than the others, held a big white box.

"I got the dress," she said, her expression unreadable. "A few adjustments had to be made to it though. That's why I took so long."

"I'm glad you did," he answered, a soft smile starting to play on his lips.

She didn't hear him. She was too busy grabbing all the chocolate she could carry.

_oOo_

Tucked into bed later that night, James couldn't sleep. The other four boys around him were sleeping soundly. Per usual, Declan was drooling on his pillow, Thomas was starfished on his bed, August's curtains were drawn, and Fred was snoring lightly. James grabbed the piece of old parchment on his bedside table and drew his curtains around him, making a mental note to return the map to Albus at some point before he broke into his dormitory and stole the Invisibility cloak from him.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he whispered, wand pointed on the paper before murmuring a quick Lumos spell.

Ink started appearing, running on the page and forming names until the whole castle was on display in front of him. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted Victoire's name next to Teddy's in his quarters before shaking his head at the two. His eyes were then drawn to the dungeons where he looked for a specific dot. There, in her room, Moire McLeoch's dot lay motionless. His fingers rose to the map and he touched the name above it before quickly catching himself. Whatever was going through his head needed to stop. She was probably asleep, so he probably should do the same.

Then, just as he was about to say the counter incantation, he saw her dot move. He followed it with his eyes until she reached the window and stopped there. The sky was clear and the stars and moon, almost full but not quite, shone brightly and he pictured her sitting on the windowsill, her pale face and hair basking in their light. He smiled and looked at the dot until his eyes closed by themselves.

* * *

_Hi all! I apologize for the wait, I just got back to school and the workload has been kicking my butt. _

_Please stay safe during these times and I hope this chapter brings a smile on your face, wherever you are._

_Leave a review to let me know what you thought, and I will see you at the next chapter_


	6. The Burrow

**The Burrow**

James pushed his trunk onto the overhead space and took back his seat. The compartment was crowded with the Potter-Weasley clan members and honorary family members. On one side of the compartment, Rose, Fred, Scorpius, and James were squeezed on the soft seats, and on the other side, Roxanne, Albus, Dominique, and Molly. Lucy, Lily, and Hugo were sitting on the ground playing a game of exploding snap.

"I can't wait for the wedding!" Roxanne exclaimed once more.

"We know, Rox. You've only said it like fifty times," Fred sighed.

"Hey, be nice," Rose said, not looking up from his book.

"Yes, mom," the boy mockingly answered.

Usually, James was the first one to engage in teasing and other antics, but he was deep in thoughts. He couldn't even hear his cousins and siblings, instead thinking of the next few days. Since the day in Hogsmeade, about a week and a half ago, he had been thinking of big brown eyes with gold spots non-stop. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Moire's face, framed with her auburn hair, and the bright smile he had gotten to see more in the past few months. He was restless, his fingers tapping on his thigh, and he knew he would be until later that evening after she arrived at the Burrow.

The plan agreed upon was that she would head home to the Isle of Skye first. Once at the Manor, she would pick up a few things, including her present to Victoire and Teddy, and she had also hinted at some of her mother's shortbread, which James had dreamed about since the last one had been eaten that summer. She then would come to the Burrow at about four o'clock via Floo network. And by "about four o'clock", it meant that she would be in their chimney at exactly three fifty-nine. Moire McLeoch hated being late. The wedding would happen five days from now, on December 22nd, and she would spend Christmas with them. Then on Christmas evening, James, Albus, Scorpius, Lily, Fred, Hugo, and Rose would head to the McLeoch Manor. It was just them, as Roxy had been invited to her best mate's house and she would leave the day after the wedding, Molly and Lucy were going to Ireland with Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey, and as for Dom, her and Louis would be heading to France to see their grandparents while Fleur and Bill enjoyed a quiet romantic vacation. From what James understood, only McKenzie was coming out of Moire's other friends.

"James. Jaaaaaames." He only realized Fred was calling him when he had yelled in his ear.

"Leave him alone, he's day-dreaming," Roxanne chastised, shaking her head.

"Yeah, he's been doing a lot of that lately," her brother mumbled.

"Yeah, let him think of his darling, will you?" Albus teased, making Scorpius snort.

"I don't know what you're talking about," James said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, it's not like there's still rumors that you and Moire McLeoch are shagging," Molly replied, a small grin on her face.

"YOU'RE WITH MOIRE?" Lily exclaimed, her head snapping up.

One thing Lily was notoriously terrible at was following gossip. She was constantly clueless, and it occurred to James that it was the first she had heard of it.

"No, Lily," he sighed, throwing a brief glare at Molly, who innocently smiled at him. "It was a few weeks ago, I took her to the Hospital Wing after a bad Quidditch practice and half of Hogwarts decided we were dating. We're just mates. And that is still the case."

"Aww," his sister responded, clearly disappointed.

"Don't lose hope, Lily, it seems James is crushing," Scorpius fake-whispered, drawing a laugh from most of the people in the compartment.

"I'll kill you in your sleep, Malfoy," the only person not laughing threatened, his cheeks red.

The teasing continued until the train pulled into King's Cross station, where their parents were waiting. James must have looked a mess because his father immediately raised an eyebrow upon seeing him. While Albus looked the most like Harry, James dealt with emotions the same way he did, and it was generally easy for him to see when his eldest was upset.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly after a hug while Ginny made a fuss about Lily, Albus, and Scorpius.

"I'm fine," James muttered before giving a hug to his mom.

"Didn't get into too much trouble, I hope?" She asked him fondly.

"Oh, no, he's been upstanding," Albus answered for him. "Such a helpful person."

"Shut up," James hissed back.

"Look, it's Moire!" Ginny exclaimed, her face breaking into a large smile as she waved at the girl.

Moire seemed to have heard her name and looked towards them. Her hair was up in a slightly lopsided ponytail and she was wearing muggle clothes. She smiled brightly back at them until she met his gaze and her smile softened. He mirrored her expression, trying not to make it obvious at how the wind seemed to be knocked off his lungs for a second. Hesitating for just a little bit, she grabbed her trunk and headed towards them.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Potter!" She greeted.

"How many times have I asked you to call us Ginny and Harry, sweetheart?" Ginny replied, giving her a Molly Weasley trademark hug.

"Countless times, but I physically cannot do that, Mrs. Potter," the Slytherin cheerfully answered.

"Now the question is, are you bringing any of that shortbread later," Harry joked.

"Of course, Mr. Potter! It's probably already packed and waiting on the kitchen table."

James cleared his throat.

"How about we let Moire get back to her family?" He suggested.

"You're probably right," Moire agreed, looking back at an incredibly beautiful woman with a gentle smile and the same dark auburn hair held back in a bun, standing to a much taller and more imposing man in a kilt, with a full head of dark hair and a thick beard, all impeccably combed. The Laird and his wife both noticed the family and politely waved, which was returned by the Potters.

Moire picked up her trunk before she started heading over and James felt his legs follow her. She didn't seem fazed by it. Instead, her smile remained, and they stopped walking halfway between the two families.

"I guess I'll see you later, then," James said, managing to not trip over his words. For some reason, the blood was pounding in his ear, and he was ignoring the way his stomach knotted.

"I'm looking forward to it," she answered.

Moire seemed to hesitate a moment before she gently put her trunk on the ground, stood on the tip of her toes, and put his arms around him. He was frozen for about a half a second before he returned the embrace. They quickly separated, the oh-so-familiar musky, but yet still floral, smell of her clinging to his nose, and it seemed to James like the young girl's cheeks were turning a light shade of pink. She grabbed her trunk and walked over to her parents.

James returned to his family, a little lightheaded. His entire body seemed to be buzzing but he put on a nonchalant face. He realized that they had been watching him, as Lily was positively beaming, Albus and Scorpius were pretending to throw up, Harry was blinking like he couldn't quite believe what he had seen, and Ginny's eyebrows were both raised quite high up her forehead. He cleared his throat to make sure whatever came out of his mouth wasn't a shaking mess.

"So, we're going?"

_oOo_

The drive was a nightmare. Ginny kept throwing him not-so-subtle looks accompanied with even less discreet commentary about his display from earlier. Thankfully, the Potters car was too small for six passengers while Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's car had an extra seat, so Scorpius and Albus were separated for the ride, and while his little brother was snickering at every one of their mom's side comment, he seemed a bit sad to be away from his partner in crime. Lily, who had previously been chattering about her excitement at seeing Moire all break, had thankfully fallen asleep. As they left London and got closer to Godric's Hollow, the busy town and crowded buildings changed to make place to smaller roads and vast snow-covered scenery. A little later, their, followed by the Weasleys', pulled into the Potter cottage's driveway. Both families would leave from there so they could arrive at the same time.

"C'mon, everybody out!" Harry called, unlocking the doors.

All of them took their trunks inside the house and they were sent to the Burrow with a flick of Hermione's wand.

"Line up by the fireplace, kids!"

James was the first one to go. He grabbed a handful of glittery green powder from the clay vase over the mantle and threw it in the chimney.

"Burrow," he clearly and loudly announced.

Next thing he knew, he was being crushed by his Grandmother.

"Gran, I'm all sooty!" He protested, a huge smile on his face, nonetheless returning the hug to the best of his ability.

His siblings and cousins received the same treatment before everything was cleaned up with a quick spell. He noticed that all of his Uncles and Aunts had arrived along with his cousins and that the only ones left were George, Angelina, Fred, and Roxanne. They all greeted each other with hugs and his uncle Charlie almost dislocated his shoulder as he gave him a not-so-gentle pat on the back for being taller than he was, and in the meantime, the remainder of their little clan had stepped through the chimney.

"Does anyone know when Moire is supposed to arrive?" His Gran asked after finally squeezed the life out of every single one of her children, in-laws, and grandkids.

"Yeah, James, when is Moire supposed to arrive?" Fred muttered. Thankfully, their Gran had not heard that. Which could not be said about other family members.

"She said four o'clock, I believe," he answered through gritted teeth as his father hid his knowing smirk behind a glass of water. The clock showed it just about three fifteen.

"Such a darling girl," Molly praised, unaware of the inside joke her family seemed to have.

"Have you seen Grandad?" James hurriedly asked.

"Oh, he's in the garage tinkering with something or the other," she answered, walking to the kitchen to check on the food that was starting to smell quite amazing from there.

The next forty-five minutes were the longest of James' life. He had gone to the garage with his cousins to say hello to their grandfather, gone upstairs to drop off his stuff in the room he was sharing with Al, Scorpius, and Fred, and even asked his Gran for anything to do. When he was ushered out of the kitchen and told to rest up, the only thing he could do was go back to the room. As he decided to go for a little flying session, he heard a squeal coming from the room next door. He hurried to the room to find Rose sitting on her bed, Albus making himself comfortable on the rug, and Scorpius perched on the desk chair, all of them looking at an overly excited Lily, amused, as a third trunk had appeared in the middle of the room.

"And, that would be Moire's stuff," the Gryffindor Prefect said, grinning.

"What the hell is all of this?" They heard from downstairs.

The teens all hurried down to the living room, where Ginny was looking at five wooden crates stacked on top of each other, dumbfounded.

"What's going on, Mum?" Albus asked.

"Not a clue. These just… appeared."

James checked the time, but as he did so, the flames in the chimney burned higher and turned emerald green and a small silhouette started forming through them. As expected, it was three fifty-nine, and Moire McLeoch was in the Burrow. She emerged, holding a large box in her arms, cleaned herself up with her wand, and looked up at the five teens and Ginny. Immediately, Lily had rushed to her and embraced her in a hug.

"Hi, Lil's," she laughed.

She seemed to have freshened up and changed from the clothes she was wearing earlier. She was now sporting a pair of dark grey leggings, and a green, soft looking hoodie. James took a second to note that her muggle clothes collection seemed rather large for a Pure-blood wizard with seemingly no ties to the muggle world. Wordlessly, he watched her put the box on the coffee table and hug the rest of the people present in the room before she headed to him.

"McLeoch."

"Potter."

She couldn't keep a straight face, however, and smiled as she put her arms around his torso. It seemed she was too short to reach his shoulders without tip toeing and with a pang in his insides, he returned it. His whole body was alert again as her perfume reached him, and before he could look at the other people present in the room, the rest of his family walked in. He thought he heard a crack as his Gran gave her a trademark Molly Weasley embrace, but it was so unreal how well she seemed to blend in with his family. Sure, her hair was quite a few shades of red darker than the bright ginger hue most of the Weasleys sported, and there was a distinctly noble air to her, but it seemed like she was a member of the family, casually exchanging a joke with an Uncle or a cousin. The noise eventually settled down and everyone sat down somewhere in the crowded, yet cozy, living room.

"My mother sends some shortbread, she's glad you all liked it last time," she said, handing the box that was on the coffee table to the matriarch of the family. His Gran gave her a gentle pat on the cheek before taking the box to the kitchen. "As for Victoire and Professor Lupin, the Laird would like to send along a few bottles of Firewhiskey from his personal batch as a gift from the McLeoch Clan."

"Don't tell me this is _a few _bottles, McLeoch," James laughed, pointing at the superposed crates.

"The Laird wishes he could have sent more," she answered, shrugging.

"You really should not have, Moire," Victoire exclaimed, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Nonsense, we make more bottles than necessary every year. Congratulations on your wedding."

"This is probably enough to toast at the wedding," Bill mused. "With a lot left over. Truly, Moire, this is too much."

After a few more rounds of her assuring that this was the least she could do, and that no, this was not too much, the noise just melted into separate conversations. James was too distracted to pay attention to his Gran and his Uncle Bill, as his eyes kept darting to Moire's face lighting up as his Uncle Charlie told her about the reserve and his job as Head Dragonologist. Her smile shone so bright he couldn't look away and once again, the image of her in the green dress came to his mind. He almost wished he had stayed near the shop until she came back so he could see her in it as she tried it on, just to see if she would look as surreal as he imagined she would.

"Did you hear me, James?"

His head violently turned back to his eldest Uncle, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow. He looked in the direction James was looking in just a moment before and an earnest laugh came out of his mouth before he held it back, an amused smile still on his lips.

"I see," was all he said, and no matter how many times James had asked him to, he refused to elaborate further.

The comment had stuck with him until later that evening, when he was setting the dinner table with Moire and Dominique. Then, Dom left the kitchen after setting down her last plate and they were alone. Her perfume reached him before he could feel her behind him.

"Fancy a little flying session, later? We haven't had one in quite a while," she said in his ear so no one else would hear.

While she meant to be discreet, the feeling of her breath tickling his skin made the hair on the back of his neck stand. While Moire McLeoch was an expert at driving boys insane, he wasn't sure she really knew the effect she had on him. Even _he _wasn't sure what it was, and all he could really do was not make it obvious just how much she got under his skin and she had for quite a while now.

"When they all fall asleep," he agreed.

She smiled and it occurred to him that at the same time last year, they would try their best to piss each other off royally and the possibility of leaving them alone with anything possibly breakable was out of the question. His Gran had even checked up on them a couple of times, only to stop when she had realized they were joking around and smiling. Dinner had been a lively affair, as it generally was, and James looked around at his family, all squished around the dinner table. He marveled again at how well Moire, who was sitting across from him, seemed to blend in with his family, talking to his father about his job, to his Gran about her secret ingredient to the most efficient Pepper-Up potion there was, and joking around with his Uncles Ron and George about what kind of products they should sell at their shop.

Even after they had finished eating, and she had gracefully accepted all three servings of roasted potatoes Molly forced on her plate, they all remained around the table for quite a while and enjoyed everyone's stories from Hogwarts.

"… and them Moire deflected a Quaffle with her broom so hard it crossed the entire field!" Albus exclaimed.

"More like two thirds of the field, but still quite impressive," James corrected, amused.

"I remember getting mad at the commentators," Ginny laughed.

"Well, if I remember correctly, the commentator made a sexist comment and you threw the Quaffle so hard at the Keeper that he went through the goals, and that's how you scored your first professional goal," Harry laughed.

"What exactly did the commentator say to get you in such a bad mood?" The former professional Quidditch player asked.

James positively choked on his water while Albus and Scorpius burst in cackles. Moire cleared her throat and tucked an auburn strand behind his ear, and he imagined how her hair felt if he ever dared to run a hand through it. Of course, she would chop it off immediately after, but it could be worth it.

"Well…," Moire said, fidgeting with a thread on her jumper. "These two airheads were quite distracted at practice, which resulted in quite a few injuries on my part. So, when James helped me drag myself to the Hospital Wing, the Hogwarts rumor mill had quite some fun with it."

It took James a second to realize that she had said his name. She had always called him Potter, but he realized he liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. His stomach twisted in a knot he didn't really mind.

"Oh, well, that quite explains it," Charlie snickered.

"My question to this day is, where did James find you?" The ever so inquisitive Hermione asked, to which Rose nodded along.

James remembered how he had found her in quite a state of undress in the Prefects' bathroom, and how she had blushed, her eyes a bit hazy from the pain. Their eyes met, and a silent agreement passed between them.

"Some details," he said, not breaking eye contact, "we'd probably better keep to ourselves."

_oOo_

Sitting at the empty table in the middle of the dark kitchen, James fidgeted with the handle of his Nimbus 3001. Their dinner party had eventually moved to the living room, and they had broken it up at about half past twelve. James waited for about a half hour until he heard snores from Fred and mumbling from Albus before he left the room. As he walked past the girls' room, he had heard hushed conversation and giggling. He had been sitting for a little while, and was starting to doubt she would show up, and as he was about to go back upstairs and check if they were still up, but heard footsteps coming in the kitchen. Moire walked in, wearing a thick jumper, a hat, and a Slytherin scarf. It occurred to him he was only wearing his pajamas. She was holding a dark bottle in one hand and her broom in the other.

"Took you long enough," he smirked, getting up and opening the door to the backyard. He motioned for her to go first.

"Rose and Lily were quite… energized. They fell asleep about ten minutes ago," she answered, following his direction.

"How many bottles did you take from your cellar, McLeoch?"

"Please, the Laird sent over sixty bottles, do you think he'll notice an extra one missing? We make hundreds of these per month."

"I didn't realize it was a business, I thought it was the Laird's private collection."

James cleaned up a bench with his wand before they sat down.

"Well, he keeps some of it. But most goes out for consumption. A few high-end wizarding restaurants and bars. Some high society wizard clubs. And, of course, a lot of aristocratic Pure-blood families. I believe Draco Malfoy buys a few bottles every now and then but keeps them locked in his study, so Scorpius doesn't get the idea to rummage through his reserves. Here, try it."

She uncapped the bottle and handed it to him. James took a swig and realized immediately why the market for the Laird's Firewhiskey was so small, and why he had never encountered it before. It wasn't because it was a particularly small business, but because it was the kind of stuff not everyone could afford. It tasted of honey and spices and it warmed his esophagus as it descended to his stomach, before exploding into an intense heat in his gut. He knew the McLeoch clan weren't exactly poor, but it occurred to him just then the kind of old Pure-blood money Moire came from. He took a second mouthful and it somehow tasted even better the second time. He passed her the bottle and she took a sip. A small shiver ran through James, as he regretted not dressing warmer.

"You really didn't pick the right outfit for a flying session in winter, did you?" Moire chuckled. She took her scarf off and wrapped it around his neck, and the musky and floral smell of her enveloped him entirely.

Moire had some more Firewhiskey before standing up and grabbing her broom. She looked back, threw him a bright smile, and hopped on Nimbus 3001. All he could do was follow.

* * *

_Hi all! Sorry about the delay. This one is a little shorter than the last one but we're finally getting to the part I've been waiting to write for quite a while!_

_For Ginny's first professional goal as a Quidditch player, I got this from a Tumblr headcanon so I just used it because it sounds exactly like something Ginny Weasley would do._

_Enjoy, and stay safe!_

_Leave a little review to let me know what you guys thought!_


	7. Wedding Frenzy

**Wedding Frenzy **

Moire finally opened her eyes after the longest night of her life. After her late night flying with James, she returned to the room she shared with Lily and Rose, a small smile on her face, her scarf smelling of pine and citrus, and a warm feeling in her stomach that she blamed on the half emptied out bottle in her hand. Her smile had faded into horror when she had realized that she had not brought the potion for dreamless sleep she had brewed right before heading to the Burrow, meaning her night was a series of relatively hot and sweaty dreams of a certain Gryffindor Quidditch captain. She extracted herself out of bed and tip-toed to the bathroom to wash up and brush her teeth before remembering she didn't need to hide out in the room anymore since she wouldn't be the only one up at that time. Did she really want to see James after the night she had just had? It might not have been her best idea. But she was starving, and the girls would sleep for another two or three hours before Mrs. Weasley decided to wake the whole house up for wedding preparations. After she was done in the bathroom, Moire made her way down to the kitchen, and no surprise there, James was enjoying a cup of tea.

"That is way too much milk in that tea, Potter," she commented.

His head turned around and he took in all of her, an eyebrow raised.

"What?" Moire asked, taking a spot in front of him and pouring herself some tea.

"First of all, you look like you had an awful night…," he started.

"Gee, thanks, Potter. Just what every girl wants to hear. But for your information I get nightmares and forgot my potion at home…"

"I bet," James said, still eyeing her strangely as she sat down in front of him.

"It's too early for your weird crap, Potter, what's the look for?" The redhead sighed, pouring herself some tea.

"That's my shirt," he simply said, a small, amused smile making its way to his face.

She almost dropped the milk and looked down. She was wearing the oversized black shirt with the muggle band on it, the one she could not remember the origin of. She had initially shrugged it off, thinking it had been from an old boyfriend, but slowly she remembered where it had come from.

"Are you kidding?!"

"Nope. It's from when Al and Scorpius stole your trunk and you needed something to sleep in," he smirked. "I was wondering where it went."

"I am _so_ sorry! I meant to return it, but I must've forgotten it and I probably threw it in my trunk and packed more things on top when I went to Russia!" She explained, a mortified expression on her face.

James didn't look upset, however, and he laughed good-naturedly.

"That's okay. It looks better on you than it does on me anyways."

She choked on her tea. She was still coughing when Hermione came down the stairs, eyebrow raised at the two of them sitting at the same table, the sky still dark outside, Moire looking flustered and James still smirking.

_oOo_

As soon as she was showered and dressed in a pair of sturdy looking jeans and a practical grey sweater, she had immediately put her hair up in a neat ponytail and had grabbed her wand. She rolled her sleeves as soon as Mrs. Weasley had started imparting tasks and with a flawless execution, the broom was sweeping the room while she was helping Lily change the sheets and pillowcases in each room. Lily was babbling away about the house her grandparents had built. When her parents were still young, apparently, the house had five floors and an attic. Two extra floors had been magically added to the house and more space was created when the Weasley children had started having kids of their own. According to Lily, who had been told by her mother, the rooms had also been made bigger. The kitchen table had previously not been big enough to hold everyone but since the kitchen was renovated, two other tables had been added. They were mismatched but didn't seem out of place. The Burrow was a crowded house full of knick-knacks that made Moire feel instantly at home. She listened to her little protegee with a genuine smile on her face, as the broom danced around them and collected the dust in a corner of the room that she made disappear before the two of them left for another room.

"I have got to say, Moire, your household spells are quite flawless," Molly had complimented.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sure my mother will be happy to know I remembered her lessons."

While the Laird had grown up in a very affluent environment, always waited on by house elves, her mother was born and raised in a simple wizarding family in Inverness. Both her grandparents had been Ministry employees and there were no house elves to clean up or cook for them, so her mother had learned household spells from her own mother and had made sure to impart them to her daughter.

"What are these two doing again?" She heard Ginny say as Lily and her got to the kitchen. "They're supposed to clear the garden, not fling snowballs at each other."

Ginny and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table, neck deep in centerpieces, and Ginny was peeking out of the window to check up on Fred and James.

"We probably shouldn't have paired them up together," Hermione sighed.

"We're done in the rooms," Lily announced.

"Thanks darlings. Would you two mind helping us with these? They're a pain. Rose is joining us in a bit, she's just hanging up the tablecloths in the laundry room."

"Sure, what are we doing?" Moire asked. The table was cluttered with clear vases, white camellias, pine needles and pinecones, a bowl magical snow that didn't melt, and some white and gold ribbon.

"Well, we're making little bouquets of camellias and pinecones, putting them in the vase with a whole bunch of needles, then some snow on it, you tie the ribbon in a bow around the vase, and then you charm it to make it last," James' mum explained.

The two girls sat down at the table and got started.

"These are the worst," Hermione complained. "We've been at them all morning and we're still not done."

"I already told everyone to join us when they're done with their chores, they need to be finished today. I'm not spending another day on these, we still need to start the party favors, set up the weather charm if the boys are ever done with the garden, the de-gnoming, setting up the seating area and the altar, and so many other things."

"It might be more efficient to make a line when we have a couple more people," Moire thought out loud, trying not to let the smell of the pine needles get her distracted

"What's that, dear?" Ginny asked, engrossed in the thoughts of how many tasks were left.

"Like those Muggle production lines. Where each person has a specific task. So, for example, the first person would make a bouquet of camellias and pinecones, pass it to the second person who would tie it with the pine needles, and so on."

"That's genius," Hermione declared. "We can even make more than one line when we have more people, so this goes faster."

Moire's cheeks tinted red at being complimented by the Minister of Magic herself.

"We're done outside!" Fred exclaimed, walking in through the door and taking his scarf and jacket off.

"We saw you two playing two seconds ago, how are you even done?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "And wipe your shoes before you get this kitchen floor all wet!"

"Don't underestimate us, Aunt 'Mione!"

"While you're here, sit down and help us out," Ginny directed, which was immediately answered with complaints.

"Potter, Weasley, sit your butts down, or we'll be here all day," the Slytherin girl instructed in her most authoritative voice and her best glare.

With satisfaction, she saw a brief flash of fear in their eyes before they immediately obeyed. James ended up between Lily and her, and Moire was way too aware of his presence.

"Alright, we'll just go in order then," Hermione declared before assigning everyone tasks.

There was some shuffling around to keep the line-up in as much order as possible, because no one trusted the chaotic Fred with forming a proper bow with a ribbon or with the delicate decorating with the snow, and somehow, Moire still ended up next to James. Her senses were heightened and the pine smell around the room, coming from two different sources, was getting to her brain. She placed the camellias as close to her as possible so their perfume would overpower it but to no avail. She eventually gave up and let the scent consume her, and while she was convinced that she was going to faint at first, a content feeling sat in the depths of her stomach and a warmth spread through her chest. She passed a bouquet of camellia flowers with pinecones on their branch to James, who surrounded them with beautiful bunches of pine needles and tied them with a gentleness she didn't know he had. The chatter was light, and soon, Charlie and Bill walked in, carrying baskets of mistletoe.

"Xeno Lovegood insisted on giving these to us when we went to pick up the flower crowns Luna made for the bridesmaids. So, I guess we're hanging up mistletoe in the house," Charlie said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," James let out in a low groan, and she could just _imagine_ the rumbling of his chest that the noise would cause.

"Please, don't let George enchant it again, the first time that happened Ted and Vic couldn't even be in the same room without turning into tomatoes for a week," Ginny sighed.

"Well, look where we are now," Hermione responded, a small amused smirk on the side of her face.

"Their first kiss was under the mistletoe," James whispered in her ear. "Uncle George charmed it when we had a party with family and friends, so there would be a magical barrier around it until the people under it kissed. Pretty sure Teddy was in third year and Vic was in second year, I think, and Mum said it was the time they were just starting to realize they liked each other so they were all shy and she's convinced to this day that they would've gotten together faster had they not been rushed. Man, they blushed and couldn't make direct eye contact for about six months after that kiss."

"I'd say that worked out well for them," she commented in the same tone with a small smirk.

A quick, uninvited picture of a mistletoe branch hanging over the two of them came to her mind and she almost combusted in place.

"Are you alright, dear? You look flushed," Mrs. Weasley, who had walked in after Bill and Charlie had, asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, thank you," she replied, her face feeling warm. "Just a little warm all of a sudden."

After assuring everyone that she was alright, she went back to her task. Eventually, the single line turned into two lines as they were joined by Albus, Scorpius, Rose, Ron, Dominique, and George, and the number of centerpieces doubled. The mood was light while the rest of the household was going about their tasks, the twelve of them working like a well-oiled machine and soon enough they were done with their project.

"I don't understand why we couldn't use magic for that," Fred complained.

"Because some things are better done by hand, Freddie," his grandmother answered, stirring a pot of jam and turning off the heat with her wand.

"All I know is that I'm using a wand for the party favors, there's no way I'm scooping all that jam into mini jars myself," Ginny whispered to Hermione, who stifled a laugh.

"What are we doing for party favors?" Dom asked.

"Little jars of Gran's persimmons jam, I think," Rose answered, to which her mother nodded.

"But we can start on those tomorrow, for now, we still need some people to start sorting through the presents and someone to fold the tablecloths and napkins that Rose left to dry. Hermione, dear, could you help Arthur with the weather charm outside?"

The protective weather bubble around the property would prevent too much snow from accumulating, only letting a thin layer remain for the wedding. The people responsible for installing the tent and the altar would be there the next day, and she had volunteered to help take the chairs inside of it. Mrs. Weasley had preferred people of age doing so as they could use magic, even though with as many wizards as there was in the house, their underaged counterparts would not easily be tracked. Louis would be helping her. Of course, she knew him just as well as she knew the rest of the Weasley-Potter cousins since he had only finished Hogwarts the year before, but she had only talked to him in group settings. It would be quite an interesting experience.

Getting up from her seat as Ginny levitated the many centerpieces out of the room, she stretched her left arm behind her shoulder before grabbing her wand and cleaning the table with a flick of it. She then stuck it in her hair, right under the tight hair tie that held her ponytail up, and after a quick lunch with the rest of the Weasley-Potter family, she headed to the laundry room to do some folding. Seeing that her little protegee had gone to sort presents with Molly, Lucy, and Hugo, she turned to the one she had considered the bane of her existence for many years. Oh, if only her third-year self could see her now.

"I'm going to need some help with the folding, especially the long sheets. Are you coming?"

"Lead the way, McLeoch," James answered with a smile.

The next hour was spent folding the smaller napkins. Teddy and Victoire, thankfully, had wished to keep it relatively small, so the party consisted mainly of friends and family, and considering how may of those the Weasleys and the Potters had, it was a miracle that the guest list had only been about a hundred and fifty guests. After those were safely tucked away, they moved onto the bigger tablecloths that they had to cooperate on. There had only been twenty-five of those, as each one of the round tables could hold about six people, but one person couldn't fold it on their own so they each had needed to grab two corners. The first time her fingers accidentally touched James', she had almost dropped the sheet. It had felt like a static shock and a shiver at the same time.

Moire kept her expression level, but inside, she was cursing herself. Sure, she had touched James before. When he had taken her to the Hospital wing, when they spent time together, on their little flying sessions. They had been high fives, friendly punches to the arm, pats on the shoulder, and recently hugs. But for some reason, brushing his fingers with hers had felt different, almost like a stolen moment, far from the noise and lively presence of the Weasley-Potter family, like their own little bubble. It took her a second to realize she was still holding onto the white and gold tablecloth and they were still standing in the same position they were in before. James had a strange look in his hazel eyes, one that she couldn't really decipher. Strange, they looked more like honey than they did hazel this close to him.

"What is it?" He blurted out, and it took Moire a little while to realize he had talked.

"W-what is what?"

"Your perfume. Or shampoo. Or whatever it is that you use. I can't put my finger on it."

Moire chuckled. It wasn't funny per say, but she could tell how embarrassed he was to even ask, and was that red on his cheeks?

"Bergamot," she answered.

"Oh. It… um… it smells nice."

She burst in uncontrollable laughter at that.

"Wow, smooth Potter! Don't you have half of the girls at Hogwarts at your feet? With those skills?"

"Hey, in my defense, I've only dated one other girl before, and that didn't last long! You're the one who can sweet talk any guy!"

"That, I can," she said, wiping a tear of laughter at the corner of her eye. "I haven't in a while, though. Not since the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff last month. And before that, I hadn't gotten with anyone since that one Ravenclaw guy in September."

The previous heavy, electric mood had returned. He had a strange look in his eyes.

"Why?" He simply asked.

She honestly didn't know why. And she was going to tell him so. But as she opened her mouth, what came out was different.

"I realized I didn't want to anymore."

He was still looking at her the same way but didn't say anything, which prompted her to say more.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't regret the past few years. Judge me if you will, but it was what I needed. After all the breakups and the heartbreak, it felt good to learn how to be involved with someone, but I wanted to do it from afar, you know? Not only that, but I learned more about my own body. Unlike popular belief, however, I didn't sleep with as many guys as I've been given credit for. Really, for all the ones I've been rumored to have shagged, I can count the ones I actually did on my hands. And it's helped me realize I did deserve to be treated well in a relationship. But, it's almost like I'm done learning. And now…"

"And now…?" He repeated, his voice lower than usual.

He was close and they were still looking at each other, not moving.

Suddenly, she had the overwhelming desire for him to just wrap his arms around his waist, pull her closer, and kiss her until she couldn't breathe anymore. She wanted to run her hand through his dark hair, mess it up more than it already was, and every single inch of her skin was buzzing, itching for him to just –

A plate broke in the kitchen, followed by Ron letting out a curse, and Mrs. Weasley chastising her adult son. Just like that, the spell of the room was broken and Moire just _knew _she wouldn't get much sleep that night either. She turned around and grabbed another sheet, that she half shoved in James' hands. The Slytherin captain tried not to look at him too much. He had the exact same look in his eyes than he did two minutes ago, and Moire was scared to be in the same position again. If she looked at him again, Merlin only knew what would happen. The tablecloths were folded and put away with the napkins and Moire left hurriedly.

She tried to occupy herself for the rest of the day, and when there was nothing left for her to do, she insisted on helping others with their tasks. She just couldn't face James, not after their little moment in the laundry room.

"Are you okay, Moire? You seem a little tense," Lily asked later on in the day, worried. Sweet, innocent, unassuming Lily. She couldn't very well tell her that a few hours prior to that, she had wanted her eldest brother to pin her against him and snog her senseless.

"I'm alright," she reassured her.

She had accidentally sat next to James at dinner, and she had been hyperaware of his elbows touching hers. Thankfully, everyone was too exhausted by the day of preparations to really talk and dinner was a quick affair. They all headed to bed and Moire prepared herself for another restless night.

_oOo_

The next few days had been the same as the first. Moire had been able to pretend like nothing had happened the next morning and every morning after that, when she had her daily breakfast with James. She had started wearing other shirts to sleep in, however, and if he noticed, the eldest Potter did not comment on it.

Now, the day before the wedding, and everything was almost over. Victoire's French relatives had joined them a couple of days prior, and Moire had had to blink a few times when Fleur's mother, Apolline Delacour, had walked in. She was absolutely stunning, and it felt to her like she was being blinded by the light that seemed to emit from the woman. Her husband, much shorter and rotund, was absolutely charming and quite a funny man at that. Victoire's aunt, Gabrielle, also looked strikingly similar to her sister, and she had brought her two children with her. Her daughter, who from Moire's understanding was named Noelle, seemed to be about fourteen, and she threw a dazzling smile at Scorpius before letting out a dreamy sigh. Rose seemed almost offended by it while Scorpius just looked uncomfortable. Noelle's little brother, Alexandre, was about eight and looked wide eyed at the Burrow, probably wondering how it held together as it seemed like it was just random parts of houses stacked on top of each other. Alexandre's English seemed rather limited to "hello", "please", and "thank you" and without his relatives around, the poor child seemed lost. Moire wasn't the Laird's daughter for no reason, however, and she had smiled at the kid and introduced herself in French and told him she would be there to help if his parents, aunt, or sister were busy with wedding preparations.

"How is it that we've known each other for years, and I just learn that you can speak French," James had asked her later, baffled, yet amused.

"You never asked," she smirked back.

"Well, what other secrets _are _you hiding, McLeoch?"

"If I told you, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they?"

While it seemed to everyone else that everything was normal between them, Moire knew better. There was a certain heaviness between them. It wasn't the bad type of heaviness. It was almost like how charged the air was right before a storm. She avoided staying alone for too long with him, because she knew that if she did, she would end up doing something stupid again. There was always at least a third person with them at all time and whenever it was just the two of them, she ran out of there as soon as her task was over. She continued doing so until the day before the wedding. Thankfully, she had found enough ingredients to make some potion for dreamless sleep and had made a batch the day after the incident in the laundry room. She had walked down with the biggest dark circles, and even Mrs. Potter had taken one look at her and sat her down, asking if everything was alright. She had given her the same explanation as she had given James the day before, and Ginny had practically dragged her to a cupboard in the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley kept her potions supply.

The night before the wedding, she had decided to stay up a little while longer and think about the upcoming day. While everything was ready for the wedding, a few last second details would need to be ironed out. The tent people had done a fabulous job, and the chairs and altar had been already set up. She had shared some of her potion with Victoire, who was at peak nervousness, and Moire hoped it helped her sleep better. Once the last touches would be made on the huge tiered cake, which Mrs. Weasley had insisted on baking since the caterers were making the food instead of her, everything would be ready. The Firewhiskey sent by her father would be served at the reception, along with champagne, and whatever was left would be split evenly amongst the Weasley-Potter family. And on the morning after the wedding, Teddy and Victoire would take a Portkey, authorized by the Minister of Magic herself, to their honeymoon in Australia.

Moire could take her potion at any point in time and just drift to sleep, but there was a certain beauty in the silence of the house. She got out of her bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. Her eyes adjusted to the dark before she reached the bottom of the stairs. A silhouette was sitting at the table.

"Moire?"

Recognizing James' voice, she considered going back upstairs, but he had already seen her. Besides, she could stay far enough and control herself. She was the Laird's daughter, for Salazar's sake. So, straightening up, she walked over to the long kitchen table comprised of three mismatched ones and sat next to James. He turned sideways to face her, and for a second, she felt exposed.

"What are you doing up?" She asked.

"I couldn't sleep so I came down for some water. You?"

"I didn't want to sleep. It was just so quiet, and I wanted to enjoy it a little while longer," she explained. She wasn't sure he'd understand what compelled her, so she explained. "It's just been so hectic around here, and there was so much to do, but it's all over now. Everything we've done has all been for tomorrow. I'm just enjoying this for a second."

"Tomorrow is going to be a war zone," he said, shaking his head and she let out a small giggle.

"You're probably right."

"The seating chart is a nightmare. Gran basically said that we should take care of seating people because we get ready faster and that we should let you girls get ready."

"She's not wrong about that. Hair and makeup are going to take a couple of hours."

"I'm sure you'll all manage," he laughed. "As long as you're all done before three o'clock."

"You can't rush art, Potter."

"Art isn't supposed to look good," he answered cryptically. "Art is supposed to make you feel something."

She was speechless for a second. There was something in his expression, it was undecipherable, but it still knocked the air out of her lungs. He stood up, and so did she.

"Well, I guess I'm going back to bed," she said slowly.

"McLeoch…," he started, looking up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"McLeoch," he called again, more decisively.

"What am saying, of course I'll see y-," she was cut off.

"Moire," he said, looking at her now. He then pointed to the ceiling above them.

A mistletoe branch hung above them, and it seemed to Moire that it was mocking her, almost.

"How? It wasn't here earlier today!"

"Uncle George and Uncle Ron charmed them, but they wanted to mess with everyone, so they didn't tell anyone else but me. They just disappear and reappear at random parts of the house."

There was a small silence where she looked at the branch and she could feel James looking at her.

"There's no one around," the Scot reasoned. "No one has to know."

"It's bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe," James answered.

"Is it really?"

"I don't know. But are we going to risk it?"

"I guess not," she answered.

His face got closer to hers, and she stared at his lips, almost anticipating the moment, and dreading it at the same time. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. It didn't come the way she expected it. He had opted to kiss her cheek, dauntingly close to the corner of her mouth. She opened her eyes back up and he was looking at her, the same expression on his face than he did before, one she couldn't quite read. But it was gentle, and she felt like she was in the right place. She had felt this in the laundry room too, like she could just stay here forever with James Sirius Potter looking at her just like he was now.

"I have to go to bed," she forced herself to say. "See you tomorrow, Potter."

She turned around and tried to not run up the stairs. She could feel him staring at her until she took the turn going up the staircase. Finally, she reached her room, and stopped to breathe for a second. She heard footsteps coming up and the door to James' room next to hers close. Moire looked at the potion on the nightstand and gulped a serving size faster than she had ever drank anything. She got into bed and let the potion send her into a restful and, most importantly, void of any dreams of James Potter or what his lips and hands felt like on her.

* * *

_Aaaaaand we're finally in the thick of it! I hope you all liked this chapter, and if you did, let me know in the reviews. I will have the next one out soon, and let me tell you all, I LOVE a good wedding. _

_See you all in the next chapter, and don't forget to let me know what you guys thought of this one._


	8. Mr and Mrs Edward Lupin

**Mr. and Mrs. Edward Lupin **

James was woken up by a strong knock at the door. He stumbled out of bed as Scorpius was getting up from the floor from where he had fallen down, and Albus was mumbling curses that would make their mother wash his mouth with soap as he was looking for his glasses. Perching his own square spectacles on his nose, James opened the door only to realize just how much of a battlefield the hallway was. Lily was pounding on the bathroom door down the hall, yelling at Molly to hurry up, Rose was running around with a towel on her head calling Roxanne for her curl taming spell, and Louis was walking around with a button down shirt and only his blue boxers on threatening Fred and Hugo to give him his pants back before he locked both of them in the broom shed. And, standing in front of him after having practically broken his door down, was the man of the hour himself.

"Good, you're up!" Teddy said, unfazed, sporting his usual turquoise hair. "Harry picked up the rings from the jeweler this morning, here you go."

He handed him a black velvet box. James took it in his hands and looked at it, still not fully up and not exactly understanding what was going up.

"Uhhh…"

"You wrote a speech, like I asked you to?" The groom asked.

"Yeah, I finished it last night…"

"Good."

"Ted, I just woke up and my head is still halfway up my ass, I don't have the braincells to play a guessing game. What is this?" The seventeen-year-old asked, a little irritated.

"The rings."

"I know those are the rings. But what am I supposed to do with these?"

"How did you make it this far in life, James? You're my best man, you're supposed to keep the rings until the ceremony. Why did you think you were right behind me at the rehearsal two days ago?"

Now, James was not a sentimental guy. He didn't remember the last time he had cried, and he was willing to bet it was something related to Quidditch. But at that moment, his eyes watered a little.

"I… I'm your best man?" He repeated, a little stupidly.

"James. You're my brother. Of course, you're my best man," Teddy answered matter-of-factly, although his eyes crinkled a bit on the corners, hiding an outright smile of affection.

James cleared his throat and blinked the tears away.

"Yeah, mate, of course. I'll see you before the ceremony starts, alright?"

"Good. Don't be late."

"How can I? Gran will drag my arse to the marquee at two o'clock so we can have everyone settled down by three."

Teddy gave him one last smile before turning around and walking away.

"As your best man, it's my duty to tell you the blue hair might not be that good of a choice!" He called after him.

"Fuck off, James," was the answer.

James just smiled before locating his dress robes and placing the box in one of his pockets. Knowing fully well that the shower down the hall was taken, he went to the one on the last floor. Everyone seemed to prefer the bathrooms in the lower floors, and James knew it would be less likely to be full, so he usually kept his things there. The door opened before he reached it, and out came Moire, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She was drying the ends of her thick auburn hair with a towel and James remembered the events of the previous night. He wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole at that very moment. Last night had been quite interesting, to say the least. He had remembered during the day that Teddy had asked him to write a speech for his wedding, and now he realized why he had needed to do it. So, James had thought of what he would say all day and before heading to bed, he had decided to put it on paper. Of course, thinking of it and actually writing it had been two different things, and James had found a small bottle of Firewhiskey that he had smuggled in his trunk and had drank half of it before finishing the speech. A glass of water before bed had seemed like a reasonable thing to do, especially since he would most likely need to be up early the next morning. He had drained his glass and decided to just sit in the quiet for a second, and then he had heard the steps coming down the stairs. James was ashamed to say he had recognized the sound of her footsteps before he had even seen her walk into the kitchen. She had paused as he had called her name, before she came and sat next to him.

For a second, he had been scared of having ruined everything in the laundry room. In fact, James was terrified that Moire had seen straight through his poker face. A strong urge to lift her small frame in his arms, pin her against a wall, and just kiss her until neither of them could breathe anymore had taken over him, and he was certain that had the plate not broken in the next room, he would've actually done it and risked his life. But it had occurred to him that, out of all the ways to die that he could think of, he was fine with that one. So, when he had noticed the mistletoe above them, he was ready to do what he should've done in the laundry room. She had closed her eyes, and as soon as he had lost contact with the golden specks in them, he had regained some reason. Her eyes had been closed and her hands had balled up into fists and for a second, he was scared to have been mistaken. She didn't want this. So, he kissed her cheek instead, and had watched her climb the stairs in a regal, almost royal way.

She raised her head and blinked a couple of times as she saw him. A couple of brief emotions passed through her eyes before she gave him a soft smile.

"I guess everyone woke up before us this morning," she said.

"I'm going to miss having our breakfast time."

"Don't worry, everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

"Maybe not tomorrow. The party will probably go on all night," he warned.

"Just what I liked to hear," she laughed.

The sound of her laugh made him smile. Then, she waved him goodbye and went back to her room. She probably would eat a bite of something before getting ready, and James hoped she would still be in the kitchen when he was done with his shower.

He had refused to sit down and excessively think of why she made him feel the way he felt. He could remember their third year, when he did all he could to get a rise out of her. Hell, even before that, back in first year, he had seen her walk to the Sorting Hat, back straight, shoulders back, chin up. They were all terrified, even James was, but he had hidden everything behind a smirk and a few jokes. Moire, however, had seemed fearless, bold, even, and for a second there, James had wished the little girl with the auburn hair would be sorted into Gryffindor, where he was quite certain he would be in. The hat had barely sat on her head a whole second that she had been sent to Slytherin. She had smiled, placed it back neatly on the chair, and walked to the table like she owned the Great Hall. And James had had the overwhelming urge to talk to her in any way that was possible. He had briefly considered pulling her braid when she sat in front of him in Potions later that week but had chickened out of it. He realized now, at the age of seventeen, that it would've resulted in her punching the living daylights out of him, but as an eleven-year-old, it was the quickest way to get her to talk to him. The following two years consisted of similar terrible plans that he hadn't been brave enough to carry through. James Sirius Potter had been a Gryffindor through and through for his entire life, but there had always been something about Moire McLeoch that managed to strip everything from him. Everything included braincells, and that is how his first real shot at talking to her turned into the biggest fight Hogwarts had seen since James and Lily Potter were students, which was ironic, given how his grandparents turned out.

After a shower and a shave, James put on a pair of jeans and a Weasley jumper. There were still a couple of things to do around the house before he could change into his dress robes and besides, it was still dark outside. He descended to the kitchen, and while all the adults had finished eating and were already running around, the rest of his cousins were taking their time. Rose, whose hair had been styled into loose curls rather than the frizzy mess it usually was in, was munching on some bread, Lily had a towel wrapped around her head and was spreading some leftover persimmon jam on a scone, Fred mindlessly stirred his tea, Albus was falling asleep on his eggs, and Lucy and Molly fought over the last biscuit. They all looked like Inferi, aside from Moire, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of tea. She looked radiant, but at the same time, Moire always looked nothing short of spectacular. He poured some tea for himself and went to stand next to her.

"Still too much milk, Potter," she smirked, not looking away from the spectacle his cousins and siblings offered.

"Don't shit on my tastes, McLeoch. I can't be that bad if I like Quidditch."

"I mean you're not wrong, but no one can hate Quidditch."

And like that, she drank the last of her cup, washed it, and placed it on the drying rack before she gave him a look that made his insides act up.

"I'm going to see if Victoire needs any help, and then I'm going to get ready."

He had known that Moire was not going to go the wedding in a pair of sweatpants. But for some reason, he hadn't really put much thought about what she would look like fully decked out for a formal occasion. She looked impeccable every day, not a hair out of place, and she usually had some makeup on, though it never looked like it was caked on, but a wedding was a different type of event, where people wanted to look their best, and for some reason, he did not think he was ready for that just yet. Sighing, he drank his tea, and when he was done, he tackled the last few tasks before officially starting to get ready.

_oOo_

James tugged on his tie, then realizing it was a lost cause, he sighed and gave up. He had done the best he could styling his hair, but short of hexing it flat, nothing could be done. It still looked messy but not as terrible as it usually did. And besides, he wouldn't be alone in looking like a hair explosion, as he was sure his father and his brother would look the same, if not worse. Speaking of his father, he realized there was something the Chosen One (he rolled his eyes at that) could help him with, and he exited his room, making his way to the first floor where his mother's old room originally was and where his parents stayed when they spent time at the Burrow.

"Dad?" He called out, knocking.

"Be right out," Harry answered. The door opened shortly after on his dad, who seemed to have just finished getting ready himself. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm shite at this," he explained, pointing to his tie. "Can you help me out?"

His father gestured for him to come inside.

"Where's Mum?"

"Helping Vic with something or the other."

A short silence fell on the room as Harry started on the tie.

"So, anything you want to talk about?"

The blood froze in James' veins, but he kept his expression even.

"No, what would there be to talk about?"

"Your head's been in the clouds since we got here."

"Has it?"

Another silence. His father was done tying his tie, but he picked a few pieces of invisible lint from James' white shirt.

"Son, I was your age once. And I was lost when it came to girls, too."

"We're not having this discussion, Dad!" He exclaimed. Harry simply laughed.

"Whatever you say, James. But trust me, I was confused when it came to knowing how I felt about your mother. And your grandfather was a downright git with your grandmother because he didn't know how to talk to her. Moire is –"

"There's nothing going on between Moire and I!"

His father raised his eyebrow at him.

"Sure. Well, if something _is _going on, just remember: don't be overconfident like your grandfather. And don't be a noble idiot like me. I would say to feel free to come talk to me anytime, but let's be honest here, I was not exactly smooth, and your mother would probably be of better help. But I'm here if you need me."

James rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say," he replied. He couldn't keep a small smile from appearing on his lips and he knew that his father would be there for him anytime.

"Go on, your Gran will be mad if you're late downstairs."

"Thanks, Dad."

James left the room and went back to his to slip on his robes. He could hear the girls through the wall they shared, and laughs seemed to resonate in his room as if they were in there too. He tried not to picture Moire with her head thrown back as she laughed, and headed out, making sure the rings were safely tucked in his pocket. He reached the backyard and paused for a second to admire the work that had been done. The weather bubble had assured that only a small layer of snow rested on the Weasley property and it looked like a scene from a snow globe. Louis and Moire had suggested to hang lights on the marquee so it would seem like icicles were falling from it and he had to admit, the result was breathtaking. He walked inside of the marquee, where the temperature was a lot warmer. A table stood at the front, covered in the little jars of jam on which the labels read in carefully calligraphed letters _Mr. and Mrs. Edward Remus Lupin_, and the chairs had been decorated with white ribbons and pine. The altar stood in front of them, so white it almost shone, and James smiled, knowing that Victoire and Teddy would have the best wedding there could be. He had barely wrapped his mind around the fact that everything was finally happening that his Grandad placed a seating chart in his hands.

"Guests should be here soon, but Ted wants you upstairs at about a quarter to three, the latest. But aside from that, looking very sharp there, James."

"Thanks, Grandad."

And he was right, the guests started arriving then. From where he stood, he could see Fred chatting with a few Veelas as he walked them to their seats. Hugo, whose hair had been tamed with Sleekeazy, no doubt by Aunt Hermione, was stuck with a couple of elderly relatives who seemed to nag his ear off.

"Hi Professor!" James said, noticing Neville walk in with Hannah and Alice.

"James, we're outside of school, I've literally known you since you were born," he replied, amused.

"I know, but it's either this or I slip up and call you Uncle Neville in the middle of Herbology class," James humored him. "Hello Aunt Hannah! Hi Alice! Let me show you to your seats."

He held in a chuckle when he saw Albus try not to trip on his own shoes upon seeing Alice in her long red dress. Scorpius seemed to want the earth to swallow him whole as he walked the entire Hogwarts teaching staff to their chairs was also great entertainment. The next half hour was a hectic affair of guests arriving and chattering, but little by little, more of his cousins walked out, finally ready. James admitted they all looked beautiful, but he kept his eye out for the only girl who was still not downstairs. When enough of his family members had come out, and the number of guests had slowed down, James shoved his seating chart in his pocket and headed inside. A quick look to his watch revealed it was almost time for him to go upstairs and meet Teddy, so he headed to the staircase just as Moire came down from it. And the world stopped around him for a second.

It seemed to James like someone had punched him straight in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, and he felt lightheaded for a moment. She was objectively beautiful on a regular day, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine how she would look in the green dress that once hung on a mannequin in the window of the Hogsmeade clothing shop. The translucent green lace that made up the sleeves drew floral patterns all over her arms and the neckline looked more daunting than he had thought at first, the emerald green fabric sharply contrasting over the pale skin of her chest. The material that made up the skirt, while it had looked heavy at first, moved along with her and rippled like a wave in the water, and for a moment she looked like some sort of nymph or spirit. Her hair had been brought over her left shoulder and cascaded down in thick waves. Her eyes were highlighted with green and gold makeup and it seemed like the golden specks in her irises shone brighter today, and as if he wasn't tortured enough, her lips were painted in a vibrant red color. It should have clashed with her hair, but for some reason, it seemed like the color had been designed for her.

"Zip me up?" She asked.

She seemed confident, undoubting, unlike James whose heart was beating out of his ribcage. Then, he noticed her fidgeting with the gold bracelet on her wrist, and it occurred to him that perhaps, Moire was just as full of shit as he was in the confidence department. He agreed to her request with a little nod and she turned around. It seemed like she had tried to zip her dress herself but hadn't gotten that far up. For some reason unknown to him, it had seemed like a good idea to put a hand on her waist, and while he couldn't see her face from where he was standing, the slight breath intake he would have missed had he not been so close and the back of her neck turning red told him that maybe, just maybe, whatever effect she had on him wasn't entirely one-sided. He slowly pulled the zipper up and as he was finished, she turned around to face him, his hand still on her waist. James realized just how much the fabric seemed to melt with her skin, highlighting every line of her and a strong impulse to pull Moire closer came over him.

"Morning…," an amused voice came from behind them, and the magic stopped.

His Uncle George stood by the sink, glass of water in hand, and the expression of a child who was just told Christmas was coming early. Moire's face was now a flaming mess and she stuttered something about going outside, her accent thickening for a brief second, before practically running out the door.

"We were… I was just… She needed help zipping her dress up," James pathetically attempted.

"Mmmhmmh, I bet," George humored him, barely holding in his laughter.

He turned around and headed upstairs and wasn't even out of earshot when he heard his Uncle George's laugh resonating through the walls.

"What's wrong?" Teddy asked as he walked in and all but slammed the door behind him.

"Nothing, don't worry."

"James, you look like a tomato. Seriously, your face looks like it's about to burst."

"Don't worry about it, it's your wedding."

"Did the sexual tension between you and Moire finally get thick enough for you to notice it?" The blue-haired young man asked with a lopsided smirk as he straightened up his tie.

"I—the what?"

"James. You can fool Harry, Fred, and even half of Hogwarts. But I taught you everything you know about girls, so I can see right through you."

James sighed and plopped on one of the beds in the room. He found it funny for a second that, even though it was Teddy's wedding, he still had to share a room with Louis. His brother looked at him, eyebrow raised, still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, man, it's been weird since this summer. Before that, McLeoch scared the crap out of me, not that she can ever know that. But then, it just casually shifted into me wanting to snog the life out of her. I guess… I guess as I started getting to know her more, she was less like this scary figure I always used to see from afar, and more like an actual, sometimes vulnerable, person with more depth and traits than being terrifying, you know? And somehow, she became a friend, and I swear Ted, when she smiles, it's hard to even remember how I thought she scared me."

There was a short silence.

"Listen, James, maybe you just –"

He did not get to finish his sentence, as Charlie came into the room.

"Ceremony starts in about fifteen, mate, you probably want to get downstairs soon."

"Well, in that case, let's get going!" James cheerfully said, standing up.

Teddy threw him a worried glance but sighed, realizing that he was needed downstairs.

"We'll talk about this later. Here, pin this to your collar."

He handed him a white rose, and they both made their way downstairs. James was barely looking in front of him, busy attempting to pin the rose on his robe collar, not quite succeeding. He lost count of how many times he had pricked himself in the finger. The ceremony still a few minutes away, people were still standing up, waiting for the official start, and a few cheers resonated as the groom appeared, followed by his best man who looked ready to throw the damn bud on the floor and stamp on it.

"You're doing it all wrong," he heard as he passed by the row his family sat in.

Looking up, he saw Moire walk up to him. She seemed to have regained her confidence and he could almost hear the aristocracy in her measured footsteps. She grabbed the flower and the pin from him and gently, but quickly, she fastened it to the front of his robe.

"There," Moire smiled. "All done."

A rush of Gryffindor boldness came over him and he grabbed her hand, which seemed much smaller in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes looking straight into hers.

She blinked a couple of times and then cleared her throat before taking a step back. He let go of her hand.

"Go on, Potter, you've got a job to do," she declared with authority, pointing to the altar, where Teddy stood near his Aunt Hermione, who was the officiant for the wedding.

The groom gave James a look as he approached them.

"Don't think this conversation is over."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Ted."

The next ten minutes went by quick, but James assumed that they felt like ten years to Teddy. The guests had all settled down and eventually, the band started playing and the guests turned around. Dominique came out first, sporting her blush pink colored dress, smiling from ear to ear, and then the guests rose and Victoire walked in, Bill holding her arm, looking stunningly beautiful. Their Aunt Muriel had left her tiara to her last living relative, his Gran, who had taken it out of the box for every single one of her children's weddings', and now her first grandchild's. The tiara sparkled like a hundred little stars on Victoire's blond hair as the lights hanging inside the marquee reflected from it. They reached the front, and Bill kissed his daughter's forehead before placing her hand on Teddy's.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Hermione started, a large smile on her face. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two souls –"

James thought his face would split in two. It looked like Teddy had been punched in the gut when Victoire had come out, looking like the sun itself in her white dress. Now, he was smiling dopily, and the seventeen-year-old could've burst of happiness that the man he considered his brother was officially becoming a member of the family.

"Edward Remus Lupin, do you take Victoire Fleur Weasley to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish –"

He could see his Gran, his Aunt Fleur, and his Aunt Audrey cry into their handkerchiefs, and his mother handed his Aunt Angelina her spare as she also seemed to tear up slightly. His Uncle Bill was smiling sadly and squeezing his wife's hand reassuringly, although it might have been for himself. Hagrid nearly blew professor Flitwick away and Headmistress McGonagall, sporting a regal red tartan looked at the couple with the biggest smile he had ever seen her give anyone.

"The rings, please?"

James dug the velvet box out of his pocket and handed it to Teddy.

"By the power vested in me as Minister of Magic," Hermione announced after the rings were slipped on. "I declare you husband and wife, bonded for life. You may kiss the bride."

In a thunder of applause, Teddy dipped Victoire and kissed her as balloons burst, releasing sparling snow that vanished as it hit the ground and doves that vanished into white smoke. The guests all stood up at Hermione's request and with a flick of her wand, the chairs were replaced by large tables and chairs, and the band started playing a lively music for the couple's first dance.

_oOo_

The guests danced, and at sundown, the food was served. Then toasts were made, and James could hear the guests marvel over the quality of the Firewhiskey. The beautiful, gigantic cake made by their Gran and decorated with golden motifs was cut and Victoire took great pleasure shoving her new husband's face in it. More dancing, followed by more toasts, and more music. James himself was a little woozy after dancing with each of his cousins, and his sister, and after quite a few rounds of champagne and Firewhiskey. His Gran, in a beautiful purple dress with bright stones on it, was dancing with his Grandad, who donned very smart looking blue robes. His Mum and Dad were dancing and laughing like teenagers, and while it was sweet, he had an obligation as their son to be disgusted by their behavior. His Aunt Luna was dressed in a bright yellow dress with a sunflower tucked into her ear and the twins sported nice yellow ties around their necks. Uncle Rolf had seemed to entirely embraced the Lovegood side of the family as he wore a yellow shirt under his robes. If Aunt Muriel was still alive, she would comment on how Xenophilius looked like an egg yolk in his entirely yellow outfit, like she did every wedding they both attended before her death. Teddy and Victoire looked the happiest they had ever looked and Victoire seemed to make everything more beautiful around her, which was something he had noticed happened with his Veela relatives when they were particularly happy. He spotted a head of auburn hair among his cousins, and with a smile, he walked with determination towards them. He had seen her dance with quite a few people, including the infamous Victor Krum himself, although he was old enough to be her father, and from what he had gathered, they talked about Quidditch the entire time. Not that he was jealous. Of course not. She had also danced with little Alexandre at some point, and James swore the little boy was in love with her.

"Hey, James!" Roxanne smiled. Her greetings were echoed by Dominique, Rose, and Molly. Moire just gave him a smile and in a second, all his bravado was lost.

"Hey, guys," he answered, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it was, which made him gain some of his confidence back. "Care for a dance, McLeoch?"

There was a silence as his cousins' eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. If Moire was surprised, she didn't show it. Her smile not wavering, she nodded, finished her glass of Firewhiskey, and stood up, taking the arm he was offering. He didn't miss Albus go up to Scorpius, who was dancing with Rose, and jab him in the rib, pointing at the two of them. He would deal with his brother later. In the meantime, he had to make sure that the beautiful, radiant, ticking time bomb in his arms didn't explode in his face. From what he could see, though, she didn't seem like she would. Once they got to the middle of the dance floor, he put a hand on her waist and grabbed hers with the other, while she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't step on my feet, McLeoch," he joked.

"Please," Moire scoffed. "Who do you think I am?"

It was easy to forget at times that Moire was the heir of an ancient and powerful clan, whose status almost rivaled the Black family before they had died out. Of course, she was raised to know how to dance, and to speak French, and to use fifteen different types of forks.

"Oh, I apologize, my Lady," James exclaimed, with a mock apologetic face.

"I don't know if this offense can be forgiven, Mister Potter." Her face was somber, but she made no attempt to hide the amused gleam in her eyes. "You have greatly insulted me, and by doing so, the entire Clan of McLeoch."

"How will I ever redeem myself for this affront?"

Unable to contain themselves, the two of them burst into a fit of uncontrolled giggles. Once they managed to stop, they resumed their dancing, and somehow the music was a slower one. She was closer to him and he could feel the heat radiate from her. Her hand was on his neck now and James' fingers were on the small of her back. They danced in silence and her head rested on his shoulder for the remainder of the song. Rosy cheeked, she smiled, giving his fingers a squeeze as she returned to her seat, looking back at him with a smile as she did so. She sat back down, striking up a conversation with Rose, who had finally sat down. She looked at him a few times as Rose spoke, and they exchanged secretive smiles, like they were having a silent conversation no one else was privy to but the two of them.

James finally made his way to the front, a glass of champagne in hand, that he hit on the side with a spoon. The crystalline sound made everyone turn around and the music stopped. Those still up and dancing returned to their seat.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

Once all the eyes were on him, James, satisfied, spoke again.

"So, first of all, I want to thank everyone for being here and celebrating Teddy and Victoire. And I wanted to thank Teddy for making me his best man today. Quite literally today. He didn't tell me until this morning."

A few laughs echoed around the room as he said so and Teddy had a little amused smile on his face.

"I mean it's only fitting. I was the one who outed them to the entire family on the first day of my third year…"

"Noisy git," the groom called, cutting him off, enticing another round of laughter.

"… so, I guess it's only fair I stand by him today too," James finished, unfazed. "Although I told him the hair should probably be not be blue today, but I don't think I can repeat his answer without Gran and Mum murdering me, so I will abstain…"

_oOo_

His speech had sent most of the room in hysterics and Teddy's face was buried in his hands, the only other indication of his embarrassment, which had been narrated by his own best man, being his bright red hair. James swore he even saw Headmistress McGonagall slapping her knee at some point. As for Moire, tears of laughter shone in her eyes and he felt oddly proud for making her laugh.

The party continued well into the night. James was too happy and exhausted to yell at Lorcan or Lysander, whichever one of them it was, for dancing with Lily and he made a mental note to kick their arses at practice, but that could wait. He noticed Moire leaving the marquee and followed her.

"Not having fun?" He asked. She jumped, not realizing someone had seen her slip out.

"You scared the crap out of me, you arse!"

He laughed, and eventually she joined too.

"And for your information, I am having fun. Actually, I don't think I've had this much fun in my entire life. And I don't just mean tonight, I meant these past few days, helping you all prepare for this, it's been the best five days I've ever had."

"I told you nothing was boring when my family has a hand in it!"

She chuckled at that.

"And you were right. I just like escaping big parties when no one notices. Have a little bit of quiet before going back in. Also, the stars are beautiful tonight."

She was right. The sky was unbelievably clear considering it had snowed the night before, and the moon was a perfect crescent.

"I wanted to watch them for a little while, but it's a bit nippy, so I wanted to grab my tartan."

He nodded.

"Do you mind if I join you? Like you said, it would be good to soak in some quiet before we have to go back."

"I don't mind it a bit," she replied gently. He saw her disappear upstairs and as she did, he took the time to find the most remote bench, further away from the marquee and the noise of the party. He cleaned it up with his wand before returning to the door that led into the kitchen. There, the catering staff had set up camp and he spotted a few half-consumed bottles of Firewhiskey. Grabbing one of them, he headed to the bottom of the stairs and waited for Moire to come down. She did soon after, holding a folded up, thick looking piece of textile that he assumed were her family's colors. It was a harmonious blend of overlapping green and black squares with silver lines woven in between.

"And how exactly do you wear this?" He mused.

"Usually around my shoulders, usually around dresses at functions or such. It's big enough to wrap around and still hang on my back. And then I fasten it with a brooch, but that's just too much for today, is it?"

He grabbed her hand, and saw a few emotions display on her face, each too quick for him to read, before it settled on a small smile. He led her to the bench, and she sat first, wrapping the tartan around her shoulders. She kept a side of it open and looked at him expectantly.

"Moire, I'm fine, it's not that cold," he assured her. He was lying. The inside of the marquee had been regulated but he was almost shivering out there. She saw right though his bullshit.

"Typical Gryffindor. Get yourself under this before you catch your death."

He obeyed and grabbed the end she was handing him. Surprisingly, the thick piece of fabric was big enough to fit around both their shoulders, only falling slightly short of closing. The both of them shifted a bit as they tried to find a position that would be the most comfortable when it came to sharing the fabric between the two of them.

"It might be better if I – ah –"

James had slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her a bit closer. The tartan now fit comfortably on both of them and Moire looked like a deer trapped in carriage lights.

"I'm sorry. Don't kill me. This is the only way this will fit completely," he squeaked, remembering just how scary the witch he was holding in his arms could be at times.

"No," she replied, her cheeks red. "You're right. This is the best way for this to cover us both."

"Firewhiskey?" He lamely offered.

She took the bottle he offered and drank some before handing it back. Eventually, they took turns sipping from the bottle until it was empty and now James was very buzzed. He was at the perfect state of drunkenness and, as her body relaxed and leaned onto him, he realized that Moire was as well. Soon, the combined effort of the wool, Firewhiskey, and Moire's body heat radiating through her dress were enough to fend off the December cold. They stared at the stars and moon, the distant sound of the music providing a background noise for them, and James was certain he had never been this content in his life. The smell of her bergamot perfume engulfed him, coming both from her and from her garment, and he didn't want to move any time soon.

"Do you want to go back in soon?" The Slytherin whispered, her eyes still looking at the night sky.

"In a little bit."

"That works."

Another silence fell on them.

"Moire?" He asked, breaking it.

"Mhmh?"

"Would you like to dance again when we go back in?"

She looked at him and unconsciously bit her lip, and James wondered again what it would feel like to kiss her, graze her bottom lip with his teeth, and explore every inch of her. Her red lips stretched into what seemed to be the thousandth smile of the day, and answered:

"Yes, I would like that."

* * *

_This was my favorite chapter to write, and we can all guess why. Just absolute, pure, unrestricted fluff. James is finally realizing that at some point down the line, his fear for Moire turned into attraction and we're here for it. Also, not so subtle hint to my favorite scene in Deathly Hallows Part 1 when George interrupts Harry and Ginny in the kitchen. _

_Leave a review to let me know what you all thought, and I will see you in the next chapter!_


	9. The Manor

**The Manor**

If one was to pinpoint exactly when things had changed between James and Moire, it would be to the night of the wedding. They had stepped out for a bit, and when they had come back, the rest of the night had consisted in glances, smiles, and more than one dance. They seemed to always find a way back to each other and any excuse for physical contact was welcome.

To Moire, had she been told a few months ago that she'd crave James Potter's touch, she would have laughed and hexed the poor bastard who would have dared to suggest such a thing. But now, as she sat alone in the kitchen, dressed in a thick jumper and a pair of her mother's old jeans that she had found and taken a liking to, sipping a cup of tea at the table, a smile on her face when she remembered sitting on a bench, the scent of pine and citrus so close to her it was dizzying in the best possible way. An arm circled her shoulder and she leaned into it.

"Good morning," James whispered in her ears, sending a wave of shivers through her.

"Hi," she cheerfully replied as he sat next to her.

"Looks like we both slept in today," the Gryffindor answered, buttering a piece of toast.

It was a little later than either of them usually woke up, but given that the party had gone on until about three in the morning the night before, until Hermione Granger-Weasley herself had made a portkey to their honeymoon destination, officially wrapping up the celebrations, Moire had woken up with a slight headache from the alcohol and the lack of sleep about two hours later than she tended to, though those never posed a problem usually and she always ended up waking up at the same time anyways. But she had shrugged, the extra sleep welcome given the circumstances. She had realized that James had done the same thing as her when he wasn't downstairs. Sure, he could have had his breakfast alone but given everything, she had a feeling he would have been waiting for her had it been the case.

"No hangover?" She asked, handing him the kettle.

"I drank water towards the end of the night. You?"

"Please, look who you're talking to," Moire scoffed.

He playfully bumped her with his shoulder, and she stuck a piece of scone in his mouth as retaliation.

"Aaarrgh, get a room!" They heard.

Albus, his hair even messier than it usually was, was rubbing his temples, glaring at the two of them.

"Go back to bed, Al, you look terrible," his brother replied.

"I can't, you two are too fucking loud."

"Don't listen to him," Scorpius said as he walked into the kitchen. "The room just spins too much if he closes his eyes."

Moire raised an eyebrow at them and it seemed from what she could see in her peripheral vision that James had the same expression as her.

"I know for a fact that the glasses were enchanted to not serve anyone underage," she said, using her Captain voice.

"We took a few bottles of Firewhiskey from the kitchen," Scorpius, who was a little more scared of the voice than the other shithead was, admitted. "Al ended up drinking a lot more than us, and now he needs some tea."

"Milk?" Moire simply asked, and she grinned, satisfied, as Albus' face turned green at the mention of it.

"That was a dick move," James commented. Yet, he had a small smile on his face that he tried to conceal, which told her he was actually impressed instead.

"Good morning," Rose greeted cheerfully, walking in. "You look awful, Al."

"Gee, thanks!"

Moire chuckled as, little by little, a few more members of the Weasley-Potter family walked in, most of them commenting on Al's appearance. Thankfully, he started feeling better after eating some dry toast with a cup of warm tea, right before his parents walked in.

"Good morning, guys!" Molly greeted, coming back from the garden with an empty bucket of chicken feed.

A chorus of more or less coherent greetings answered her.

"You're all up early," the matriarch said, an eyebrow raised. "The party ended quite late."

"Some of us are early risers," James answered, looking at Moire as he said so. She answered with a discreet wink.

As she continued munching on her toast, the kitchen livening up at the sound of the few people who were already up, Moire's eye caught on something peeking out of Rose's jumper, and her eyes widened. No one seemed to have realized anything, as the bushy haired girl was talking to Fred, her empty cup of tea on the counter, so she had decided not to attract any attention to either of them, but Ron walked in not too long after. If he noticed, things wouldn't be too pleasant in the next five minutes. She finished her scone in a record time and stood up.

"By the way, Rose, wood ye like tae come upstairs really quick, I think I foond yer earrin' last night," she said, cursing herself as her accent came out slightly. Rose's eyebrows furrowed.

"I didn't lo—"

Moire's expression must've told her everything she needed to know. Thankfully, no one else had noticed, except for James, who arched an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"Oh. Right. My earring."

The younger girl followed her to their room where Moire tiptoed in, as Lily was still sound asleep, and grabbed her makeup case before dragging her to the bathroom.

"Love bite," she explained as she closed the door behind them.

Rose's eyes widened in horror, her hands shooting up to her neck.

"Calm down, it's poking out from under your jumper. I'll put something on it, and it'll be gone by the end of the day."

Rose stretched out the collar of her jumper to expose the hickey a little more and Moire blinked at the atrocity.

"Okay, maybe more like tomorrow."

While whatever was visible above her collar was pretty manageable, it became darker as it reached her clavicle, a purple monstrosity that would have been a lot harder to miss had it been an inch higher. Moire opened her makeup case and took out a little vial full of a sheer blue liquid.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Rose asked.

"My best kept secret. I have had to hide _a lot_ of hickeys in the past couple of years, and this is one of the very first potions I have ever invented. I usually apply some on bruises and love bites before I hide them using makeup and they fade in less than a day. Yours is… very dark. So, it might take until tonight or tomorrow. But you won't see it past tomorrow morning, I promise."

She dabbed some of it on Rose's pale skin before grabbing some concealer and powder. Thankfully, both were about the same complexion and the result was almost unnoticeable. The worst of it could be hidden under her clothes.

"So. How long you and Malfoy been sleeping together?" She asked with a smirk after she sealed the makeup with a spell.

Rose's skin flared up, her eyebrows almost blending in.

"We – I – it's – how did you know?" She finished, dejected.

"Please, you two were a matter of time. Now spill."

"About two or three months. We haven't actually… slept together, yet," the Gryffindor admitted. "Just a lot of snogging. And… and then some," she added, her cheeks reddening even more, if it was possible. "We're usually careful about that kind of stuff, but we drank, and weddings always put everyone in a romantic mood. Please, don't tell Albus."

"Wait. Albus doesn't know?"

"No… he was suspicious at first, so him and Scorpius argued about it and kind of… fell out of sync for a while."

When were the two idiots ever out of sync? The proverbial lightbulb went off as Moire gave it half a second of thought.

"Out of sy– you're telling me that's what had them so distracted at that one practice that ended up with me in the Hospital wing and half the school thinking I was dating your cousin?"

"I'm so, so sorry, Moire!" Rose exclaimed, hiding her face in her hands.

Moire sighed as the younger girl kept muttering her apologies.

"It's no big deal, Rosie."

She wouldn't hear it.

"Okay, I kind of put you in the spot there, so it's only fair you have some dirt on me. James found me in the neutral hallway of the Prefects' bathroom."

Rose blinked a few times, her mouth gaping like a fish. Moire waited for her to get he still wasn't saying anything.

"He had to help me get my shirt on because I couldn't with my shoulder. And you're the only one who knows that, because after all the rumors, people would think we shagged in that bathroom or something. Plus, I don't want to have to explain that he saw me in a bra."

"Your secret is safe with me," the other girl finally replied, having recovered her spirits.

"So is yours. Don't worry, I won't say a word to anyone about it."

They smiled to each other before heading back down.

"Took you a long time to get an earring," James commented, raising an eyebrow.

Moire bit back a curse. She was going to kill him.

"I thought I left it in my purse, but turns out I put it somewhere else, and Lily is still sleeping, so we had to be extra careful looking for it."

While everyone just nodded or shrugged, James seemed like he did not quite buy her story. As he opened his mouth again, she cut him off in his tracks.

"The weather bubble is still on for a bit, fancy a flight?"

His face lit up in a way that made her stomach tighten, and James got up, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her up the stairs to go get their brooms under the laughs of his family members. She couldn't help laughing herself.

"James, stop!" She chuckled. "Your legs are too long!"

He slowed down a little bit, releasing her wrist and grabbing her hand in his instead, and all she could think of was dancing with him at the wedding. His hands had been mostly soft, although there were a few calluses from holding a broom and a Quaffle, and they radiated heat, just like the rest of him had when he had held her close on the bench outside the Burrow.

They spent the next two hours flying around the garden, and when the weather charm wore off, heavy snowflakes started falling on them. They returned inside the house, soaking wet and freezing, but smiling so wide their faces looked like they would split in two. The two of them split up as they headed to separate bathrooms in the house to shower.

As Moire hurried to rinse the soap off her body, she took a second to consider what her relationship with James Potter had become. Whatever that was, she just decided to go along with it and to be fair, it was nice to not have to argue every time their paths crossed. As much fun as it was a few years ago, their arguments were getting kind of tiring to her and it was a nice change of pace to be friends, or whatever they were at the moment…

She finished up her shower and wrapped herself in her towel before heading to the room to get changed. Putting on some jeans and one of her thickest jumpers, she did her best to dry her hair with her towel. She sat on her bed, her vial of bergamot perfume in her hand, before she spritzed herself with a little bit more of it and headed out. The door next to hers was open, but she still knocked on it out of courtesy and from where he was laying in his bed, James looked up from his notepad. As his eyes fell on her, his face lit up, bringing a smile to hers, and she walked in. The Gryffindor moved a bit to leave her some space to sit and she did just that.

"What are you up to?" She asked him as he closed the notepad.

"Quidditch plays. We're playing Hufflepuff in March, so I'm brainstorming."

"Let me see?"

He pretended to hold his notepad against his chest, an amused glint in his eyes.

"And have you steal them? Not a chance, McLeoch!"

"Please, Potter, we played Hufflepuff weeks ago and crushed them," she replied, mockingly rolling her eyes. "Besides, it's not like you can use the same tactics against Slytherin. You'd be a terrible captain if you didn't tailor your plays to each team."

James laughed and handed her the notepad and she flipped through before stopping on a play.

"Okay, see this? When we played Hufflepuff, Macmillan tended to head one way to confuse the other team but then he throws the Quaffle to the other side. He always had a chaser waiting for him there, and they were usually wide open because everyone followed him. If you use this play, you can have the beater aim towards the one lone chaser opposite of the field right before Macmillan passes the ball, and while he tries to avoid the Bludger, have one of your chasers intercept the ball."

When Moire looked back up, James had a look of admiration in her eyes.

"What?"

"You're a genius. And you're ruthless."

"Took you long enough to notice," she smirked.

"You guys are playing Ravenclaw in February, right? Do you have your play book on you?"

"Yeah, I've been trying to work on plays so we can start training right after the holidays end."

"Go grab it, we played Ravenclaw already, I can help."

She ran out of his room and into hers and as she was grabbing her play book and a pen, she wondered how she had gone from despising James Potter to working with him on how to defeat their Quidditch opponents.

They worked until Rose came to fetch them for lunch, and again after that, well into the evening.

_oOo_

The next couple of days were spent in good holiday cheer. By then, everyone had realized that the mistletoe was enchanted to pop up in random places. It had resulted in sweet moments, like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanging a kiss under the expressions of mock disgust displayed by their children, and quite hilarious ones like George running after Percy and finally plopping a wet kiss on his cheek.

Moire, and James for a matter of fact, had been extra careful, especially since they were quite often in the same vicinity and the mistletoe seemed to have taken a liking to them. Moire had lost count of how many times she had swerved away from James as he accidentally walked under the stupid little bundle of leaves, or the times he had grabbed her by the arm and directed her another way as it appeared on the ceiling above them. It had become an extreme sport, especially since it became ruthless as Christmas approached and between plays, flying together, and just spending time together, it was becoming harder to avoid it. Scorpius and Albus seemed to have a blast with it, however, watching intently as the two Quidditch captains tried to deal with the bothersome situation.

"… and that's how I almost got my arm bitten off by a Peruvian Vipertooth!" Charlie recounted on Christmas eve as they all sat in the crowded living room.

The fire blazing in the chimney reflected on the red and golden globes that decorated the tree and little candles floated around it. Moire was smiling at Charlie's antics, as he exaggeratedly recounted some of his adventures at the Dragon Sanctuary. James, Ginny, and George walked back into the room, carrying trays of hot chocolate mugs and she tried not to crumple her nose as the smell of cinnamon assaulted her nostrils. They passed around the room for people to grab a mug and she could hear James mutter "not this one" a couple of times. Finally, he set the tray down on the table and grabbed the last two mugs. He walked up to where she was sitting on the floor, braiding Lily's hair into a crown, and, sitting next to her, he handed her one of the mugs.

"No cinnamon, I made sure," he said, leaning a bit.

She smiled gratefully before taking a sip from it and setting it on the table behind her. The smell of pine trees and citrus once again enveloped her. With the amount of time she had been spending with James, one would have thought she would have been used to it, but it seemed like it made her just as dizzy as it had for the better part of the school year, but she had found herself welcoming the intoxicating smell in a way that she did not fully understand herself.

"How about you tell the story of how the healers had to call Mum to get you to finally stay in your bed?" Percy teased as his older brother took a break to sip his hot chocolate.

"That's not what happened!" The Dragonologist exclaimed in a hurry, spilling some chocolate on his shirt. "Mum sent a letter telling me to listen to the healers and I did!"

"Mum sent a howler threatening to grab a Portkey to Romania and hex your butt glued to your bed for a week if you tried to get up one more time," Ron corrected.

"Wait, Dad, tell us the story of when you, Uncle Harry, and Mum smuggled a dragon out of Hogwarts!" Hugo asked, straightening on the couch, an excited gleam in his eyes.

Moire chuckled as Harry, Ron, and Hermione retold the story of how Charlie and a few of his friends at the reserve had flown across Europe to pick up a dragon that Hagrid had been hiding in his hut. It then morphed into stories of their shenanigans at Hogwarts, like the time they had snuck into the forbidden section of the library as first years, or how they had brewed Polyjuice in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as second years, a feat that had ended with Hermione being morphed into a cat hybrid for some time.

"I'm going to bed," Ron said in a high pitch voice, pretending to be his wife, "before either of you come up with a clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled!"

Hermione gave him a playful slap on the arm, an amused glint in her eyes.

"I'll admit, I was a little much in first year."

"Just a smidge, love," he replied, a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"And with that, it's time for all of us to go to bed!" Mrs. Weasley declared.

"C'mon, Gran!" Fred protested.

"It's getting late, dear, don't forget tomorrow is a busy day," Angelina replied.

Moire smiled at that. While Bill, Fleur, Dom, and Louis were setting off to France to join the Delacours, and Percy, Audrey, and their daughters had a family vacation in Boston, the rest of the Potter-Weasley cousins would head to the McLeoch Manor at the end of the day, and McKenzie would also meet them there. Though she occasionally saw some of her cousins at Hogwarts, her schedule was jam packed between her classes, helping out Professor Khan, and Quidditch, so she did not get to see them too often. Besides, she missed those who had already finished their studies and could not wait to see them again.

Everyone stood up and a procession headed to the kitchen to drop off their mugs, and as she walked out, Moire looked at Lily's braids for any possible flaw, not noticing James who was going back into the kitchen and was looking behind him as he was talking to Fred. She walked directly into his chest, steadying herself by grabbing his arm.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking in front of me," she apologized as she straightened up.

"I wasn't either, you're all good."

"Oh, I am SO taking a picture of this and showing the team!" They heard Albus say.

They looked at the middle Potter child, who, along with most of the family was looking above both their heads. They followed their gazes straight up to the little mistletoe branch that had magically appeared on the ceiling above them and Moire blinked a few times, not immediately registering the event.

"Soooooo…," Ginny said, still looking up, as Harry next to her tried his best not to laugh at both of their expressions.

They had been under it before and Moire had just started being able to ignore the electricity between them without having to add a kiss to that as well. She tried to forget how she had wanted James to kiss her until she couldn't breathe anymore many times over the few days she had been at the Burrow, and to be quite honest, the thought was sounding more and more tempting each time but it was becoming easier to try and force it out of her head. She had even been able to sleep without her potion the past two nights and this…

"Are you all just going to stand here and watch? That's kind of creepy, you know?" James said, sounding a little irritated. She didn't blame him.

The adults laughed and left in response, Ron and George having to be dragged out by their wives as they were laughing uncontrollably saying something about Hogsmeade and love potions that Moire couldn't understand. Most of the teenagers, though, did not seem like they were going anywhere. In fact, Lily's eyes shone brighter than the stars and Moire could already see the fairy tale scenarios playing in her mind where her big brother and her role model kissed and realized they were madly in love.

"Oh, we're not leaving," Albus assured, having acquired a camera from Merlin knew where.

"Merlin, Al," James groaned.

"The sooner you get this over with the faster we can all go to bed!"

"We don't have to do it," James said in a serious tone, searching her eyes with his for any sign that she was uncomfortable with the idea.

Her entire body was buzzing. She was still holding on to his arm, that she had used to keep her from falling a few moments ago, and if she just pulled down on it, pulled him towards her, she could quiet down the little voice in her mind that demanded James Potter's touch. However, she absolutely could not show how badly she needed him, not to him, and certainly not to their little audience. So, Moire did what she did best: she put a confident smirk on her face and spoke in her most defying voice.

"Scared of a little kiss, Potter?"

She had struck the most basic Gryffindor chord, the one button every Slytherin knew to push since the school had first been opened by the Founders. In a blink of an eye, he had pulled his wand, knocked the camera out of Albus' hands with a Disarming Charm, and then his lips were on hers and the whole world seemed to both explode and fall into place. The kiss lasted no more than two seconds, and her body physically ached for more. Moire tried to control her breathing as it felt like all the air had been knocked out of her body.

"There, was it so hard?" She asked, pretending her heart was not beating out of her chest.

He didn't answer, looking at her with an unreadable expression, brows furrowed, and she wondered if she was imagining the desire in his eyes or if it was really there.

Before she could decide, he took a step back, returning to his usual nonchalant countenance and, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked at his family.

"Happy?"

"No, you twat, you almost broke my camera!"

"I don't know how to break this to you, Albie, but you're a wizard. You can do such a thing as repair a broken camera."

Once back in the room, Moire grabbed the remaining potion in her trunk and drank everything that was left in the vial before she started to change into her pajamas. Lily was still brushing her teeth in the bathroom, so Rose closed the door and looked at her.

"Be honest with me. You don't have nightmares, do you?"

"What?" She asked, unable to focus on the curly haired girl in front of her as every single inch of her body was tingling, and an annoying heat started forming in her stomach.

"You didn't use to take this potion. Or at least, you didn't need it last summer. Or the past couple of days. Now you kiss James and suddenly you need the potion again?"

"Rose, you're too smart for your own good. You know that, right?"

"Come on, you can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

"Fine," Moire sighed deeply, falling onto her bed. "It started when I smelled James in Amortentia when Professor Khan showed you guys the potion at the beginning of the year. I didn't smell him last year, but for some reason, I do now. Maybe it's because I had a massive crush on that idiot second year until we were actually introduced, and I realized he was a total prat. Maybe it was spending time with him last summer and realizing we could actually get along. I don't know. But then, I just started having sex dreams about the bloke regularly, and quite honestly? I couldn't even look at him directly because all I could see where the dreams. So, I have been taking more than the recommended dose of this potion just so I could get some fucking sleep without dreaming of your cousin shagging me."

Rose's eyes were as wide as the ornaments on the Christmas tree downstairs.

"Lily will be back any second now so we should stop talking about this."

"For now, but we are definitely having this conversation again at a later date."

"Sure," was all she could mutter, the potion finally starting to take effect. "Just don't tell anyone what I told you."

_oOo_

Moire took a deep breath before she stepped down the last flight of stairs into the kitchen. She kept her face even as she noticed James sitting at the table and offered him a shoulder squeeze as she passed by him, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it up. James cleared his throat as she sat opposite of him, grabbed a scone, and spread some of Mrs. Weasley's persimmon jam, that she had become quite obsessed with, on top.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked hesitantly, and she stopped chewing, feeling momentarily bad for pushing his buttons.

She swallowed her bite and washed it down with some tea before nodding.

"I did. How about you?"

"Not too bad," he mumbled. "Listen, about yesterday…"

"It's all good, Potter, you're not the first bloke I've kissed."

"Moire," he sighed.

"Besides, I shouldn't have taunted you like that. Everyone knows Gryffindors don't respond well to it…"

How could she tell him that she had been desperate to feel his lips on hers after all the times something had almost happened between the two of them these past few days? It was better for her play dumb at this point.

"You get snarky when you're uncomfortable. That's your way to not let people see you're affected by something."

Moire froze in her spot. Did he have her a little more figured out than she thought he did?

"Instead of taking it as you daring me, I should've understood that you were not fully okay with it. I'm sorry."

"I didn't mind," she said in a small, almost squeaky voice, but he heard. They were the only two people in an otherwise deadly silent kitchen, there was no way he could not have heard.

"You what?" He asked needlessly, his eyes widening.

"Don't make me say it again, Potter. I wasn't uncomfortable because I had to kiss you," she sighed. "It's just… well… everyone was watching," she lied miserably.

She couldn't very well tell him that she had been terrified to kiss him because she dreaded losing control and making a total fool out of herself, could she? The lie would have to do.

"You're right. Sorry about them."

There was another pregnant pause, as Moire nibbled on her scone to avoid looking at him directly in the eyes.

"McLeoch?"

"Mhm?" She answered, forced to look at him.

"I didn't mind either."

Moire though for a second that she would choke on her breakfast. By telling James she didn't mind, what she had actually meant was that had they not had a full audience, their kiss would have lasted a whole lot longer than two seconds and would have escalated into something else entirely. He was giving her a bit of a pointed look and his hand went to seek hers on the table. It seemed so big as it sat on her much smaller one and his gaze was piercing her, the air between them electric once again.

"Potter, I–"

She was interrupted by the sound of people coming down the stairs. Just like that, James' hand was not on hers anymore as Roxanne and Dominique walked in, followed by Fleur.

"Ah! Good morning!" She said in her usual cheerful accented voice.

They greeted her in return and Moire hoped for a second that her face didn't show just how troubled she felt. But, as Dominique sat next to her and started chattering away, her doubts were eased, and she welcomed the distraction from James' eyes that were currently burning a whole through her head. He eventually stopped staring when Fred walked in and sat down at the table. The rest of the family made their way down little by little and soon, the whole household was gathered in the kitchen. Everyone seemed a lot more energetic than the morning of the wedding, excited by the prospect of opening presents. Moire took a second to appreciate the family gathered around her, who seemed to welcome every one of their children's friends like their own and, no matter how crowded the house got, always found a spot for them somewhere.

"Time to open presents!" Lily yelled as soon as she had swallowed her last bite of toast.

There was some shuffling around as they all made their way to the living room but eventually, they all sat down and started opening presents. Moire was over the moon as she was gifted several potions book, and almost squealed when Bill and Fleur handed her a rare book filled with even rarer potions that only experienced potion masters could get their hands on.

"We're curse breakers, we find very interesting things in our line of work," Bill had said nonchalantly, and she promised herself to send him some of her father's finest bottles every month.

Besides books, she had gotten some broom care items, as well as new Keeper gloves, and a few higher end items from Ron and George's shop. A few tears almost escaped her eyes as Mrs. Weasley handed her a handmade Weasley jumper that matched her clan's colors and was decorated with a big M in the middle. Her presents seemed to receive positive reactions, a few examples being books to Rose and Molly, a rather nice dragon skin purse for Mrs. Weasley, some Muggle gadgets for Mr. Weasley, new bats for her beaters, as well as a lily scented perfume for Lily using her mother's recipe, the same she used to make her own bergamot one. James' reaction was her favorite by far. He opened her present and immediately dropped it, his mouth open in a comical fashion.

"What have you got there, mate?" Fred asked.

"It-It's a first edition biography of Joscelind Wadcock," he said, his voice suddenly high pitched as he grabbed the biography of his idol from inside the box.

"Open it to the title page," she suggested, a smile at the corner of her lip.

The sound that came out of his throat them sent her in hysterics as his eyes scanned the inscription that said "To James S. Potter, who I am told is an amazing Chaser. May you set new records that surpass mine. Best, J. Wadcock." And next thing she knew, she was being bear hugged to death by a very grateful, and most importantly very strong, James Potter.

"Potter. Can't breathe," she joked, causing him to release her.

"How did you…?" He asked, an almost crazy light in his eyes.

"Joscelind is a very good family friend and a loyal customer of my father's," she shrugged. "She's a century old and has nothing to do but enjoy Firewhiskey and dote on her great-grandchildren. All I had to tell her was that it was a gift for the Chaser who has scored the most goals against me and she signed and sent it back to me in a blink of an eye."

It wasn't a lie. Out of every Chaser in Hogwarts, it was always hard to stop his throws and she always dreaded when he held the Quaffle and headed towards her, and she always imagined what it would have been liked if they had been on the same team. He seemed to hesitate for a little while before he grabbed a small box wrapped in brown paper from under the tree and handed it to her. Her name was carefully written on it while his was signed right under in smaller print and she took a second to realize that James Potter didn't have the messy handwriting she thought he would, but instead a nice and clean one. She carefully opened it and was faced with a pair of the most adorable earrings she had ever seen. They looked like little orange blossom flowers, and it amazed her how detailed and carefully crafted they were.

"You said your perfume was bergamot scented, and I think the flowers look like this?" He said cautiously, his shoulders dropping as if he was suddenly not so confident of his gift.

Her heart started beating a little faster, as she remembered the moment where she told him what her perfume smelled like. It had been in the laundry room and that was the first of the many moments where she had felt like something would happen that would change their dynamic forever. It also occurred to her that he had, at some point, snuck out of the Burrow without her noticing and, considering this was not a common design, possibly scoured the town for a jeweler who would be willing to commission a pair of earrings less than a week before Christmas. Before she could stop herself, she had leaned towards him and dropped a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she smiled, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He looked flabbergasted for a minute but responded with one of his own, looking at her with a tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. Right then, she knew: if she kissed James Potter with as much passion as she felt, he would not run away. Quite the contrary, he would respond with the same intensity, and for some reason, she felt giddy yet terrified at the same time. They only broke eye contact when Lily caller her name and gave her the present she had gotten her, a hand made scarf. Lily somehow looked both delighted and anxious at the same time as she declared she had made the scarf herself, and though some spots were uneven, Moire proudly wore the scarf around the house the rest of the morning.

Everyone was in a great mood as they hung out in the living room, something that quickly became one of Moire's favorite activities, and many pictures were taken with everyone wearing their Weasley jumper. Ginny had ushered Moire in the pictures, insisting she was family and therefore must be in them. There was a particularly funny moment as the Weasley-Potter grandkids all lined up to spell bad words, even roping in their parents by pretending they were spelling more wholesome ones, cueing a lot of yelling and George cackling away, tears streaming down his face, and holding his stomach. As they finished their lunch, everyone was sent away to pack their stuff before they had to head in different directions. Rose seemed very excited at the prospect of the Manor's library, while ever so wholesome Lily was just happy to meet her family. Moire had no doubt her mother would soon dote on the little redhead, being very fond of children and Lily being Lily.

Molly, Lucy, and their parents left first, and though she had not known the girls well prior to this winter, Moire had enjoyed spending time with them and hoped they could make it to the Manor the next time they all met. As for Bill and his family, they headed back to Shell Cottage soon after, their Portkey being scheduled for later in the day. The rest of them had their bags sent off to the Manor and were lined up outside before two o'clock, waiting for the old rainboot to start glowing, and saying their goodbyes to the family in the meantime.

"Don't get into any trouble," Ginny warned after hugging all of them. "I better not get a letter from Laird McLeoch telling me you blew up part of his house."

"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Potter, blowing up the house would be mild compared to the trouble my cousins and I used to get into," Moire laughed, which did nothing to ease Ginny's worry.

The boot took its telltale blue hue, and after a last hurried round of goodbyes, they all hurried to grab part of the boot and braced themselves for the uncomfortable ride. The Burrow disappeared, and when their eyes opened again, they were faced by a vast plain covered in snow.

"Holy fuck, McLeoch, you should've told us that by Manor, you meant castle!" Fred exclaimed as he laid eyes on the imposing rock structure facing them.

Moire, though she had grown up there, could see how some people would be impressed by the centuries old McLeoch Manor. It had been big enough to form a small court in the fifteenth century, as Laird castles usually did, and though parts of it had been destroyed later due to either wars or renovations to make the castle meant to hold a court more of a family estate, it was still imposing and quite intimidating at first glance.

"Welcome to the Isle of Skye, guys! My cousins probably started arriving already. I'll show you to your rooms. The Manor has enough space for everyone to have their own, but it's very common for a few of us to end up piling up in one room and have a sleepover. My parents usually like to wait for people outside, but the New Year's Eve party is usually a lot of work, so my mother is probably either in the main hall or the kitchen, and the Laird is probably hiding in the library to rest up a bit."

She led the way towards the Manor, the heavy double doors wide open as her family would soon start flocking in, and they made their way through the vestibule. Her friends looked around them from the expensive chandeliers to the long carpets on the floor as they walked down the window lined hallway.

"Is that mah darlin' cousin I see?" A deep voice laced with a strong Scottish accent boomed.

Moire turned around as she heard her favorite cousin call out, smiling as she took in his freckled face and messy red curls.

"Oh, he's cute," she heard Roxanne mumble.

"Callum, ye wee bawface," she exclaimed, heading towards him and embracing him.

He returned the hug, lifting her off the ground.

"Yer maw said ye missed me, lass," he teased, ruffling her hair.

"Yer bum's oot the windae, if ye think I missed the likes o' ye," she bit back. "Ah did miss yer sister though, whaur is she?"

"Aila is in th' kitchen with Aunt Fiona," he answered with a noncommittal wave of his hand.

As Callum's eyes fell on the Potter-Weasley cousins, who were all following the exchange with a baffled yet amused expression, his smile got even wider ad he walked towards them.

"Is that James Potter I see? When Aunt Fiona told us you two were friends now, I though she was taking the piss out of me!" He exclaimed, his accent becoming less pronounced.

"Callum MacIntyre," James mused with a smirk. "Good to see you, mate."

"Likewise," the Scot answered good-naturedly, shaking his hand.

Callum was two years older than them, and he had been Slytherin's Quidditch captain for both his sixth and seventh years. He had been one of the best Seekers their house had ever had and a right pain in Gryffindor's backside the entire time he had been on the team.

"I'm just showing them where their rooms are," Moire clarified. "Care to tag along?"

"The grown ups like putting all the teenagers in one wing of the Manor," Callum explained as they all made their way to the rooms again. "They're in the opposite one. Less noise that way and more privacy for us."

"It's the wing where my room is. They know it's no use separating all of us since we're just going to end up with ten of us in one room anyways," Moire cheerfully added. "Alright, here they are."

"MOIRE IS BACK, GUYS!" A high-pitched voice called out and half a dozen redheads poked out of a few rooms before everyone cheered and ran out.

Her father being the sixth child and only son in a family of eight, her cousins ranged from adults to young children. The cousins she was around the most were those ranging from the ages of thirteen to about twenty, as those were the ones who were allowed in the barn during the holiday parties. She got along well with the rest of them, but they were either too old and had their own children and families already or were too young to be allowed to participate in their antics. There were about a dozen or so first cousins between that age, but there were also a few of her father's cousin's kids who were also very close, so the barn was usually crowded with about thirty teenagers or so.

"Alright, guys!" She said, calming most of them down. "We have guests, behave!"

She did a round of introductions for everyone, and it looked like her friends and her family were getting along quite well. A smile came upon her face and she relaxed for a bit before wondering if James had been anxious about her not blending in with his family before she remembered that she had known the Weasley-Potter family before the two of them got along, and even the two weeks she spent with them the past summer had been prior to them ever hoping to be in the same room without arguments starting.

"So… any more of your friends coming?" Callum asked.

"Erin's family takes holidays seriously so she can't come, Emma came last year so she wanted to spend Christmas and New Years with her family this year, and Leah is in Portugal, so it's only McKenzie."

"Alright, then. Oh, and by the way, the Laird wants to talk to you about something."

"Give me a second, will ye?"

She pulled James aside, interrupting his conversation about Puddlemere United with her cousin Dougall, who was a year older than they were.

"I'm going to try and locate my parents. I think my father needs to talk to me. Everyone usually has a designated room for when they come visit, so Callum can show you which ones are free usually. Mine is the one at the end of the hall with the Slytherin banner over it."

"You don't say," he smirked. She chuckled at the sass.

"Your trunks should already be placed inside your rooms, so it's just a matter of finding where. I thought Lily would appreciate the one across from mine, but aside that, I'm not sure where everyone is."

"Don't worry, we'll figure it out. Go do what you have to do," he reassured her, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

Checking that no one was looking at them, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before making her way to the kitchens.

"Moire!"

Her cousin Aila, who had just turned twelve years old, ran up from the bench she was sitting on, to embrace her, making her mother turn around and give her one of her trademark gentle smiles.

"Hi, love," she smiled, smoothing her hair back on her head.

Aila had always had a sweet personality, and it shocked no one when she was sorted into Hufflepuff. Though her family was mostly Slytherin, her aunts and father had married all over the houses, and it was not uncommon for some of her cousins to have been placed somewhere other than the green and silver house. Her own mother had been a Ravenclaw. She let go of her cousin and went up to her.

Though they had house elves in the house, Fiona McLeoch was not raised to kicking it back and letting other do the work, so when big events such as family meetings were being planned, she was found bustling around like a busy bee helping out the elves. Of course, she had been met with a lot of resistance at first, but after almost twenty years, they got used to it. Both the Laird and her were hardworking in their own ways, and it was no wonder they found each other.

"Hello, Ma."

"Hi, dear," she answered, wiping her hands on her apron and embracing her. "Are these new?" She asked, looking at her earrings.

"Christmas gift," she answered, her cheeks heating up a bit.

If her mother noticed, she didn't let on.

"Callum said Da wanted to speak to me?"

"He's resting in the library."

Her father had probably been working a lot to help prepare for the family meeting, and his favorite place in the house to unwind was undoubtedly the library.

"I'll go find him."

After giving one last hug to her mother and a quick pat on her cousin's head, she made her way down the hall until she reached the big mahogany doors of the library. She opened one of them and slipped inside, enjoying the smell of old books, fresh ink, and the two roaring fireplaces that warmed the library that was every book lover's dream. The walls that faced the garden were mostly glass panels, that were always kept spotless and without a single scratch. Staircases spiraled up to other balcony like levels, and ladders allowed to reach the higher shelves. On the deep blue ceiling, the constellations were replicated, and as the earth orbited and their placement on the sky outside shifted, so did the ones above her head.

"Ah. A bhobain," came the gruff voice from the biggest chair in the room.

Smiling at the term of endearment coming from such a solemn man, she made her way towards her father. He stood up, his dark hair and impressive beard carefully combed per usual, and as she reached him, he kissed her on the forehead and waited for her to sit in the chair across from his before he sat back.

"Sit, dear one. We have much to talk about."

* * *

_Hi all! To apologize for the tardiness, I made sure this one was extra long, so I hope you liked it! I just finished my exams not too long ago and had to rest up before I wrote this. _

_We finally get to meet the Laird, and it seems like both James and Moire are connecting some braincells. Finally, right? _

_Enjoy, and don't forget to please leave a review to let me know what you all think!_


	10. The Fairy Pools

**The Fairy Pools**

James stood at the entrance of his room, looking not at the inside of it but at the large Slytherin banner above the big mahogany door, signaling Moire's room. He had found his room to be a door away from his sister, who was directly across from Moire, while the rest of them and her cousins were placed here and there down the long hallway, which somehow only fit a little over half of the rooms designed for Moire and her cousins, the rest of them being on the perpendicular corridor they had come from. He was certain that he would not be able to get around just yet without one of the family members to help him out, at least for the next day or two, but it seemed like Moire and her cousins moved in one giant pack so they would most likely all head places together, which made him feel a little better about finding his way around the gigantic estate Moire called her home. He took a second to imagine how she felt when her cousins weren't all around; she would have the entire wing to herself, her parents sleeping at the other end of the Manor, and he could feel the empty silence. For a little moment, he imagined a young Moire in her bed, scared of monsters, with her parents halfway through the Manor, and then it occurred to him that she probably slept closer to her parents' room as a child, and besides, she was Moire Bonnie McLeoch and she probably laughed in the face of imaginary monsters. He could not picture her as anything less than fearless.

"I ken I left Hogwarts all of three years ago, but thaur is _nae_ way I am seeing James Potter here," a redheaded girl he recognized vaguely from Slytherin said, drawing him out of his thoughts, followed by two boys, one who had finished Hogwarts the year prior and the other who he knew to be a fourth year, who both looked strikingly similar to her from their grey eyes to their wildly curly hair.

"Och, didne I tell ye, Aileen!" The youngest replied. "They're mates now!"

Aileen looked at her brother, whose name he remembered to be Harris, raising an eyebrow the same way he had seen Moire do thousands of times.

"Yer taking a rise out a' me?" She asked, and when he shook his head, she burst into laughter. "After we hud tae hear all her complaining?"

James uncomfortably cleared his throat.

"Um… Hi," he awkwardly said as the three siblings looked at him.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate. Ye jist have tae understand, this is very strange tae most ay us. We," Aileen answered with an apologetic smile. "Aileen Fraiser. Ye micht recognize me an' my brothers frae Hogwarts. This is Duncan, and our youngest Harris."

They chatted mindlessly for a bit as more of their cousins arrived, which was always celebrated with a round of cheers and several hugs. It took James a minute, but he eventually got used to the varying strength of accents, to the point where he didn't even notice anymore. After a little while, he excused himself and stepped inside his room. He hadn't seen it until then but let out a low whistle as he took in the large canopy bed made of dark wood and covered in a pristine white blanket, and his trunk sat at the bottom of it. The room, though large, was very standard with its antique stone walls, a closet on the corner where all of his clothes had been placed, a vanity, large windows that took up most of the wall opposite to the door with a padded windowsill to sit on, and a door that he found out lead to his own small bathroom. He understood suddenly the aristocracy that seeped through every one of Moire's pores: this girl's family had practically been royalty a few centuries back. While being a Laird was only technically about owning land, from what she had told him once at the Burrow, this was so much more. He could _feel _the importance of the title to Lairds and to the people who lived in their courts, and he felt like he finally understood the pride Moire took in her clan's history. It was rather intimidating at first, and he was certain that in her place, he would have caved under the silent pressure of being the only child in a family as ancient and noble as the McLeoch clan. The door of his room swung wide open, interrupting his train of thoughts, revealing Fred who waltzed in, looking around curiously.

"Bloody hell, James, your girlfriend has some serious money."

"She's not my girlfriend," he sighed.

"Whatever. We can both act like the two of you didn't almost start shagging when we opened presents this morning."

"We didn't… why do I even argue with you anymore?"

Fred plopped himself on his bed, ignoring his cousin.

"She even had your room near hers! Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Jamesie."

"Which doesn't leave much, you heathen."

Fred responded with a rather rude gesture from where he was laying on James' bed. The two fell silent for a bit and the Gryffindor captain looked at his closed door. Fred was right, he was way too aware of how close to him Moire would be sleeping. She had been way closer at the Burrow than she technically would be later that night, but they weren't sharing rooms like they had at his grandparents', granted they both slept in their respective rooms instead of the dozen-in-a-room sleepover he was told about. It was rather thrilling to know that if one of them tiptoed across the hall, there would be no cousin to wake up, no parent to hear them, no one to disturb them as he kissed her lips and as she rummaged her hands through his hair. He stopped his thoughts before they could take him past the point of no return.

"Hey, do you want to check on the others?" Fred asked. "I think Roxy is a couple doors away from me, Al and Scorpius are in Rose's room a few rooms down, and Hugo is not too far either."

James nodded without saying anything before he headed to the door. But, aside from Fred's exaggerated grunt as he got out of the overly plushy bed, he heard Moire and Callum's hushed voices. The rest of their cousins seemed to have retired to their rooms for now.

"I don't know why you're so surprised, it's not like the Laird would've chosen anyone else."

"I know," she answered, sounding a little irritated. "Salazar's knickers, Callum, he's never said anything until today, less than a week before the New Year's Eve party. Said he didn't think it was necessary to say it out loud, because it was always a given. He just went right into how the ceremony would go, I had to stop him to ask what he was on about."

There was a short silence between the two of them before Callum started chuckling.

"What's so funny you twat?"

"Imagine Fergus' face. That bawbag was certainhe'd be chosen."

"Stop it, Maureen will hear us!" Moire chastised, although James could hear the smile in her words.

"She's not here yet! And please, no one will tell her, I'm pretty sure no one likes her father. It's like he's got an entire fern tree shoved up his arsehole."

"Fergus does take himself too seriously… gets that from Aunt Bridget."

The laughter doubled.

"Aunt Bridget is going to absolutely _lose_ her marbles! She was so convinced her darling Fergus would be picked as heir."

James frowned, not fully understanding what was being discussed. Fred had been staring at him with a questioning expression, having not heard the voices outside, before he dashed past him and opened the door, interrupting the cousins who were discussing outside of Callum's room located a couple of doors down from Moire's.

"Oh, hey guys! Are you settling in well?" Moire asked with a smile.

"Dang, McLeoch, had I known we could've been invited to the Manor and stay in rooms like these, I would've forced James to be friends with you sooner," Fred joked, earning himself a sharp elbow to the rib.

"He's kidding," James clarified, giving him a glare. "Everything is perfect, Moire."

"Good," she answered. "My cousins are having tea in the parlor and they took yours with them. We were just about to go too, if you guys would like to come with."

"Lead the way!"

The four of them walked down the corridor, lined with portraits of men in quilts and women in large tartan dresses and berets, and slowly, James and Moire fell to the back as Fred and Callum discussed Quidditch.

"How much of that did you hear earlier?" She asked, looking straight ahead.

"Not much. Something about an heir."

Moire's expression was undecipherable, and she was still not looking at him. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"If you need to talk, I will listen. And if you just need to hang out in silence, I can do that too. It's no fun when you're not being a pain in my arse."

She still wasn't looking at him, but she had one of her trademark smirks on her face, so he knew she felt a little better at the prospect of spending time together. She intertwined their fingers together long enough to return his comforting squeeze with a thankful one of her own before she let go of his hand, just as they reached yet another set of double doors – seriously, who designed that place? – which Callum opened with a bang. A whole room full of varying degrees of redheads, Scorpius' platinum blonde, Albus' jet black, and McKenzie's light brown hair, turned towards them, some sitting on chairs and couches, others straight on the large rug that covered most of the floor, and quite a few of them twisted in what seemed to be strange positions. He realized why as, upon seeing the four of them, they all relaxed and straightened out revealing several bottles of Firewhiskey.

"Lads and lassies, and apparently alcoholics," Callum joyfully called, earning himself a _fuck off, ye wee cunt_ coming from somewhere in the room, "I have found the lady of the house!"

A few cheers answered him as Moire stepped in front of him. Faking humility, she cleared her throat and spoke to the audience of her relatives:

"Let's close these doors and have some tea, shall we lads?"

More cheers followed and Callum closed the doors.

"I thought the party didn't stay until tonight?" James smiled as he took a seat on the floor next to her.

"Oh, this is nowhere near what the party will be like," she assured him as she poured herself some tea and a generous portion of alcohol in it.

_oOo_

James' buzz from the afternoon "tea" wore off a couple hours after they had left the parlor. He had found himself wandering around the Manor, looking at the tapestries, the statues, and paintings that rivaled Hogwarts in age and grandeur. Most of them depicted scenes of battle, but quite a few were just Scottish wizards who he assumed were from the McLeoch clan based on the tartan color. The deeper he got in the Manor, the more portraits greeted him, and he knew he should stop before he was truly lost in the maze that was Moire McLeoch's home, but the more paintings and busts he saw that greeted him as he passed by them, the more he felt he could understand the kind of world Moire lived in. The one he did not realize was so different from his that same morning.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a giant frame that took up a big chunk of wall. It showed a stern looking redheaded man with a on a pedestal, wearing the McLeoch tartan, sitting on a large chair with a beautiful woman with jet black hair on his right and a little black-haired boy who could not have been more than ten years old. In front of them, a line of several men in kilts of different colors as they went up, one by one, to the pedestal and kneeled by the imposing man, exchanging a few words, before leaving. The boy looked bored and he seemed to stifle a yawn every once in a while, as he fidgeted in his seat. The woman was trying to be still and regal, but James could see her tap her fingers on the arm of her chair as well as look around the room discreetly from time to time. The man, however, nodded after each man passed by him, a solemn expression on his face, as he periodically stroked his red beard.

"Ah. I see the annual Cèilidh caught your eye," a gruff voice said from behind him.

He turned around and immediately felt small as a man with impossibly broad shoulders made his way towards him. He was wearing the McLeoch kilt with a pristine white shirt tucked into it, and his dark hair and beard were carefully brushed and maintained, making him feel self-conscious about his own messy mop. The man, who he immediately guessed was the Laird, stopped next to him, his eyes taking in the large painting in silence for a few seconds before he turned around to face him.

"You must be James Potter. I have met your father on occasions," the Laird said, his thick accent coating his words, before he extended a large hand towards him.

James shook his hand, immediately intimidated by the strong hold he received and the fleeting thought of having to shake his daughter's hand at their game at the end of the season terrified him. As they both lowered their hands, James thought it would be a good idea to finally open his mouth and speak.

"The art in here is just amazing."

He almost bashed his head against the nearest statue. Really? His first words to the Laird were _those_? He didn't seem to mind though, as a small smile moved the thick mustache a couple of millimeters.

"This art tells the history of our clan. From its founder, down the hall in the first floor, to the portraits of every one of its members a little further up. The battles we have fought, both as wizards against evil and as Scotsmen against British occupation. Times of peace and times of war and famine."

James nodded, trying to match the solemnity of the man next to him, but as much as he tried, it seemed impossible to stand as straight and proud as the Laird did. He had a commending presence and while he hadn't raised his voice once, his words seem to echo in the empty corridor and he just knew that even in a crowded room, he could silence the room in an instant.

"The Cèilidh," he spoke up again in a way that gave no other choice to James but to listen, "is a tradition that we have kept for centuries. It translates to gathering in English. This painting shows my great-grandfather, Donnchadh McLeoch, and his allies pledging to him. As you might have guessed, we are one of the oldest clans in the Highlands."

"Yes, sir."

The Laird nodded with a gruff sound of agreement.

"Out of all our allies, we are the oldest and the strongest which means we are the head of our alliance. We have helped those clans during hard times, took care of them in hunger and war, in exchange for their allegiance. Nowadays, those allies are the clans my sisters' and cousins have married into. The ones we allied ourselves with centuries ago have also integrated into our family through marriage at some point in time. I know other clans do something similar as well, but for the clan of McLeoch, every New Year's Eve, our allies gather and swear their oath of allegiance to the head of the clan."

"Even today?"

"Now it is more a tradition than anything. Us Scots like our customs."

"Does this mean that if a war broke out, they would have to go into battle with you?"

He laughed, the booming sound reverberating around the hallway.

"Aye, it does mean that they would have to follow us into battle. But it also means I have responsibilities towards them. If one of those clans struggles with anything, we would have to send help and resources. The clans who have disappeared were those who did not properly care for their allies and ended up alone with no one to help them fight if needed."

"Oh, here you are! Fred said you'd wandered off, and—Da?"

James practically spun in place to face Moire, who was coming up to them, a curious expression on her face. The warm lights from the flying candles and the chandeliers gave her hair a coppery hue, and Merlin knew they made her eyes shine brighter.

"Hello, a bhobain. I was just telling your friend about some of our traditions."

Moire tensed up a bit at that statement.

"Oh…"

"He seemed quite interested in the Cèilidh. Isn't it fortunate he will be attending one in a few days?"

"One could call it that," she mumbled.

Her father nodded solemnly before he excused himself, saying he needed to oversee a few things about dinner, and left the two of them.

"The Cèilidh can be a little boring," Moire spoke after a second of silence. "It's just a long line of people who swear to the clan that they'll be loyal to us. They all practically say the same thing in different fancy wordings. Gets old after two or three of them."

She was rambling now, looking nervously at the painting.

"Moire, is everything alright?" He finally asked. She let out a sigh.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

The two of them wandered around the Manor and she pointed at each statue or painting that caught his eye, telling him the story behind it. Unlike the Cèilidh painting, all of those were vocal.

"That's my great-great uncle Hamish," she said as the man, his face decorated with the thickest moustache James had ever seen, spoke in such a thick accent he couldn't understand him. "Don't worry, none of us can make out what he says half of the time."

They had finally reached the family portraits and Moire gave him a crash course in knowing who her aunts and older cousins that he hadn't met were, pointing at their faces in a large painting that showed all of her aunts and her father standing behind two chairs where her grandparents sat. She had warned him that her aunt Bridget, the oldest, was a bit stuck up, something he remembered her say to Callum earlier and that her aunt Aoife was a chipper woman who was known to have one too many drinks. Her other aunts ranged between the sweet and soft spoken Nairne, the tomboyish and loud Cadha, the sassy and hilarious Greer, the easy to get along with Lainie, and her youngest aunt, Gavina, who liked to meddle in others' love lives and was the one to go to for gossip.

"Not that I would engage in such a scandalous activity," she exclaimed, faking an appalled expression, hand clutching her chest.

"Naturally not, I would _never_ assume that the daughter of the Laird would be anything less than a proper young woman," he smirked.

There was also a rather flattering portrait of Moire's parents right next to the large one of her aunts, father, and grandparents, although it was quite smaller than the extravagant family canvas of the eight McLeoch siblings and their parents.

"You told me your mother was from a small village. Did she meet your father at Hogwarts?"

"My father is a few years older than my mother actually. He was in his seventh year she came in as a first year. If I recon, she was a Ravenclaw in your mother's year. They didn't interact back then. No, they met when she was finished with Hogwarts. You see, my mother likes plants. So, she worked at the apothecary in Diagon Alley. A year or so after she started, my father went into the store while she was working, and he immediately fell in love with her. He didn't want to scare her, so he asked in a very Laird-like manner if it would be okay for him to take her to dinner. I don't think he told her he knew within seconds of meeting he would do anything to marry her one day until well after she said yes," she chuckled at that last bit as her mother's painting nodded in agreement, her gentle smile on her face, her husband next to her looking at her like she was the light of his life.

As for the cousins, the only one he was told to really steer away from was Fergus, the oldest of them.

"He was my grandparents' first grandchild, and since he was a boy, Grandfather doted on him," she said, her tone slightly bitter. "I told you he was old fashioned. The reason I have so many aunts is because Grandfather couldn't fathom leaving the clan to one of his daughters or letting his younger brother and his children have it instead of one of his own kids. Since my parents only had me and I'm obviously not a male heir, Fergus was convinced he'd be Laird after my father."

James frowned and looked at her.

"Well that's stupid of him."

"I know. Especially since the Laird called me in earlier to tell me he was announcing me as his successor at the Cèilidh. So, I'm not exactly looking forward to it."

Oh, so that's what Callum and Moire had been talking about earlier.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, repeating his suggestion from earlier. She let out a huge sigh still looking at the extravagant portrait of her father and his sisters.

"We've just never… had a conversation. I was never sure I would be taking over the clan, but my father, he's just… well you've met him. He never thought for a second Fergus or any of my cousins would be a better fit than me because they were men. And now that I'm of age, he wants me to officially be introduced as the heir to the Manor and to the clan. We haven't had a woman be in charge for nearly three hundred years," she sighed again, rubbing her forehead. She looked exhausted.

"Do you want to be Laird? Or whatever it is they call women Lairds?"

"Usually Lady. And yes, more than anything. I just… I wasn't sure I would be. Which is stupid, because now that I look back at it, my father would never pick anyone else. It's just…," she trailed off, seemingly unable to properly voice her feelings. But James had known Moire for a little while now and even during the many years they were at each other's throats, he had known how she operated by now.

"It's just that you spent years not knowing and now that it's clear that your father never had any doubts and thought it was so evident that he didn't need to mention it, you need some time to process everything," he finished for her.

She nodded, finally looking at him, the light of the candles bouncing on every single golden fleck in her eyes and he couldn't help but reach out and grab her hands in his and she stepped a little closer at that.

"You are going to be an amazing Laird. Lady. Whatever you want to call it. So you might as well get used to it, McLeoch, because you are going to live in this Manor for a very long time," James said, his voice an octave lower than what it usually was, as he spoke low enough for only her to hear.

Moire shivered and that was James' cue. One of his hands let go of hers and settled on her neck, where he could feel her pulse quicken under his palm, a thumb stroking her cheek. She was tense, the same way as the night before the wedding that he had mistaken as unease. But now, after their talk in the kitchen that morning, the way she had told him she didn't mind kissing him and he had understood that she wasn't indifferent to whatever this was either. How they had looked at each other as they had exchanged gifts told him that it was only a matter of time, that she had felt every spark, every charged moment, whether it had been under the mistletoe when she all but dared him to kiss her, in the laundry room where her mere presence made him forget that his entire family was crammed in the neighboring rooms, on the bench in the garden under her tartan. All of this he could trace back to the little girl in first year with the braid who had walked up to the Hat like she owned it, the second year longing, the third year screaming matches, the fourth year snarky and violent quips, the fifth year taunting followed by ice cold shoulders, the sixth year where, after a particularly confusing potion class that put quite a few things in perspective, he noticed that her eyes were not fully brown and that her auburn hair shone like dark copper in the sunlight. All of those moments brought him to this instant, where under the painting where they were stared at by the judgmental eyes of Bridget and the severe gaze of her grandfather, Gavina having already left the portrait to gather around other relatives and ancestors. A loud crack interrupted them and a second later, Moire was standing six feet away from him, arranging her hair.

"Miss Moire, mister James," he heard a particularly high-pitched voice say and he was confused at not seeing anyone for a second before looking down at a small house elf.

James only had a very vague recollection of Kreacher, his father's old house elf, before he had passed away. He had been in diapers then, and it had been quite a feat for him to even survive that long, but he had been stubborn. Besides Kreacher, he had met a few house elves during his escapades to the kitchens. The one in front of him had large, bat-like ears, the biggest eyes James had ever seen on any house elf, and a nose round like a tomato. She was also sporting a toga made of white, pristine sheets.

"Hi, Dolly. Is anything the matter?" Moire answered with a smile, smoothing invisible wrinkles on her shirt.

"Dinner will be served shortly, miss. Dolly thought miss would enjoy a little notice in case you wanted to get changed."

"Thank you Dolly, it would probably be a good idea to freshen up before dinner."

"Dolly also wanted to wish miss a happy return to the Manor, and welcome mister James."

A genuine smile stretched Moire's face as she crouched down to the little elf's height and gave her arm a little squeeze.

"I'm happy to see you," she assured, and the elf gave her a last, wide smile before she curtsied and disappeared with another crack.

"You know Aunt Hermione will talk your ear off about this once she finds out, right?" James smirked as they started to make their way back. Moire looked scandalized.

"We have never mistreated our house elves! In fact, we make sure they are happy, they have their own quarters, and we show them respect! My father has always said that while elves worked for us and made sure the house was clean and that food was made, we were to protect them in exchange, just like we would our allies."

The more he heard about the Laird's strong moral compass and sense of duty, the more James understood the jokes between Moire and her friends. He had always thought them exaggerated, but it seemed like the Laird was a character straight out of a play from the Muggle playwright his aunt had made him read. What was his name? Shakespeare?

"Any dress code for dinner?" He asked, suddenly self-conscious about the maroon Weasley jumper with a large gold J on it.

"Not until the New Year's Eve party," she said, and he had a small smile at the thought that she would be wearing her own Weasley jumper to dinner that night.

As they were about to reach their wing of the Manor, she grabbed his hand, halting both of their steps.

"Not a word about what I told you earlier. No one knows about this but you, me, my parents, and Callum," she warned, her brow slightly furrowed in worry.

"Don't worry. My lips are sealed," he promised.

_oOo_

The main hall looked exactly the same as it had in the painting of the Cèilidh. It had stairs at each edge of the room to lead up to balconies that overlooked the room and, though they were currently empty, James was certain they would be full of people watching the Cèilidh from above. Its high arches still stood, unmarked by time, and he felt like he had stepped back into the fifteenth century, the whole room with its stone walls bathed in the lights of candles floating in the air and the fire roaring in the fireplace behind the main table where the McLeoch siblings and their spouses sat, the Laird and Fiona in the middle. James could already recognize Bridget by her pinched expression and Greer, who was already making one of her sisters laugh. The rest of the tables were reminiscent of the Hogwarts Great Hall, and the noise of conversations almost drowned out the Laird's voice. Almost.

"Listen up, all!"

The clamor died down as every head turned towards him.

"Welcome back to the Manor. I hope you all had an easy and comfortable trip. My wife, my daughter, and I have missed you all and hope you enjoy the next few days as we prepare for the New Year's Eve party and the annual Cèilidh for our clan. Now, without further ado, dig in."

As he sat down, the plates in the middle of each table filled up with vegetables and meats, and James happily dug in. It seemed like Lily and Hugo were already getting along well with Alia, and James had a good laugh as Callum, across the table from him, tried to feed haggis to Fred and was cheered on by Kenzie. Moire, who had sat next to him, seemed to have a glint in her eyes, and he wondered briefly if she had felt the same relief at her family and his getting along so well. It seemed like, throughout dinner, her arm always seemed to brush up with his and his mind went to his realization from earlier, that something was meant to happen between them sooner than later. He knew she felt it too, and he was jittery at the mere thought of it.

Dinner had been a lively affair, or at least on their side of the room. The tables seemed to have been divided by age, with the eldest cousins and their children sitting at the first table and the next two tables containing the boisterous people who were of age to attend the barn parties. James thought he recognized Fergus at the head of the first table by his expression that looked seemingly the same as his mother. He sat with his wife, who had an amiable smile, and their younger two sons who looked quite prim and proper. He was the only one sporting such a sour face, as the rest of his siblings and his cousins seemed to have fun and were chattering happily. His daughter, Maureen, who he recognized to be a fourth year in Slytherin, was sitting with the rest of her cousins rather than with her siblings and parents and seemed to be having a great time.

After a dessert that rivaled the ones at Hogwarts, and one of the best Treacle tarts James had ever tasted, the adults retreated to the parlor for a few drinks, which Moire had told him were quite eventful themselves, and the rest of them returned to their wing. James was surprised to see everyone retreat to their rooms immediately as they reached them.

"Don't worry, everyone is putting pajamas on and grabbing blankets or instruments," Moire reassured him as they reached the end of the hallway.

"You did not just say the word instruments, McLeoch," he laughed, bewildered, but her smirk told him otherwise.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious. If you want to change, go ahead, come to my room after."

James headed in the room to gather his thoughts. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth – just in case, he told himself – and changed into his pajamas, slipping his Weasley jumper on top of his t-shirt. He only realized that it was the black shirt with the muggle band on it that Moire had stolen from him and returned when he was suddenly surrounded by the smell of bergamot, which brought a smile on his face. Grabbing his wand and a small blanket he found in the dresser, he headed to Moire's room.

"Come in," she said after he knocked. "I think your siblings and your cousins already went ahead with some of mine."

"Is McKenzie coming here too?" He asked as he closed the door behind him and took a look at her room.

It was significantly bigger than his was and the walls, similarly to his, were made of a cream colored stone. She had a changing screen in the corner of the room painted with beautiful green and gold snakes. Her dark wood vanity was enormous, and its mirror was full of pictures of her and her friends and family. Because it wasn't enough space, however, she had more pictures in frames all over the wall behind it, and James was surprised to see himself in quite a few that seemed to have been taken either at the Burrow that past summer or throughout the past few months as they slowly started becoming friends. The closet door was slightly open, and James could make out a large, yet organized space where everything seemed to be folded to the millimeter. There was another door, though it was closed, that he suspected to be her bathroom, and finally, the large canopy bed made of the same dark, solid wood her vanity was made of that he plopped himself on, with its thick blankets and seemingly millions of pillows.

"Pretty sure I saw her leave with Callum so she might already be there. C'mon, let's head out, we can't be too late," she said, putting on a pair of black slippers.

He took a good look at her and a smile came over his face. She had taken her makeup off and was wearing her hair in a braid, a pair of thick flannel pants and a baggy emerald green jumper.

"What?" She asked with a smile.

"Nothing, you're just tiny," he answered with a chuckle, standing up.

She punched him in the abdomen, not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to knock the air out of his lungs for a second or two.

"Shut up, Potter," she mumbled before grabbing him by the wrist.

They exited through a side door that gave right into the garden and he regretted not draping his blanket over himself the same way she did with her tartan.

"Warming charm?" He suggested, trying not to show how cold he was.

"No, the barn is right there," she replied, looking unbothered by the weather, pointing at the old looking barn a few steps ahead.

"It looks like there's light inside."

"I'm sure Callum and Kenzie got there earlier so they probably lit the bonfire. Some of us got everything else ready earlier, so there should be Firewhiskey and butterbeers in there already. Anyone younger than fifteen isn't allowed to touch the Firewhiskey, we enchanted it, so they won't be able to grab it," she clarified as the barn came into view.

"What do you mean by not able to grab it?" James asked, puzzled.

"Literally that. Their hands go right through it. They had to learn the hard way after Fergus decided to break the rule and ruin it for everybody on his first year at the parties," she told him, rolling her eyes, as she pushed the door open.

The barn was significantly warmer than it had been outside, but it wasn't too hot for his jumper. In fact, the temperature was just perfect. He hadn't expected the barn to be an actual barn, but there were stacks of hay everywhere. In fact, the stacks, all of different heights, seemed to have been placed around a fire that was lighting up the entire barn, and those already there were sitting on them.

"A cushion charm," Moire told him with a small chuckle as she saw his bewildered expression. "C'mon."

As they settled down amongst them, Moire insisting to sit behind Lily who looked quite happy to have her hair braided again, Aileen offered James a plastic cup like those he had seen in Muggle movies his Granddad had taken them to see at the cinema. Upon inspection, it was full of Firewhiskey. He realized there were a few jugs of them on the ground, about three times the size of the ones that were sent to the wedding, and as he looked up, he saw an old wooden table placed against the wall a little further away that seemed stacked with similar jugs and several cases of butterbeer.

"Who's the poor fucker who had to go to Portree and get those?" Moire questioned, laughing earnestly as she was handed a similar cup to his.

"That would be me," Dougal groaned, not looking very happy about that fact.

"I cannot believe you sent the one of us who always gets confused by Muggle money."

"That's what makes it funny, aye?" Aileen responded with a loud laugh that was soon joined by others.

"Och, fuck you."

"What I cannot believe is that you all casually drink the type of Firewhiskey that Pure Blood families can barely get their hands on," Fred exclaimed, causing another round of laughs around the barn.

"Aye, it helps when yer uncle makes it," Duncan replied good-naturedly.

"Oi, did anybody bring a fiddle this year?" Callum asked. "Because we dinnae want a repeat of last year."

"Fuck off, Callum, we got three fiddles tae drown out yer awful bagpiping."

"Shut ye geggie, Ewan, I'm the best bagpiper in the family!"

A short argument ensued, during which the last people arrived, and as the door closed behind the last of them, Moire stood up.

"Alright, enough!"

Her Captain voice, which James would never admit brought the fear of Godric into him, immediately shut down the barn. He took a second to admire the scene before him, as several teenagers and young adults settled on hay, some sitting and others laying, a few of them stacked high enough to tower over everybody, as the fire illuminated their faces. Moire, standing taller than he had ever seen her, looked breathtaking to him. Her hair tie had fallen to the ground on the way there and her braid had loosened up, revealing thick waves of copper hair that looked like her head was on fire.

"Welcome, all of you. We have a few new people tonight, some from our own family, and some who will be treated as such. There are only a few rules tonight, and they will be the same every night until the New Year. Rule number one, what happens in the barn…"

"… stays in the barn," almost everyone answered, and she smiled, satisfied.

"Rule number two," she continued. "No Firewhiskey for anyone under fifteen. If anyone breaks the charm that does not let them touch it will be banned from the barn."

A few groans were heard, though James could only make out Maureen's, as she complained about her father not being able to hold his liquor.

"Damn right, Maureen!" Someone yelled.

"Rule number three, every new person must carve their name on the table before the end of the year," she said, pointing at the old table that held the alcohol. "Rule number four, have fun!"

A concert of cheers answered her, and Callum stood up as she sat down.

"Thank you to the Lady of the house! Now, to follow up this beautiful speech, if someone doesn't have a drink in hand, I suggest you get yourself one, after all poor Dougal had to embarrass himself in front of the wee pimply Muggle teenager to buy these cups…," he said, before being interrupted by Dougal with a rather floral curse being sent his way.

"Oi, watch yer mouth, ye bawface," Moire admonished, putting both her hands on Lily's ears. "All of ye fuckers are lost causes as far as I'm concerned, but this angel still has some innocence left."

"Don't let her fool you, she spends too much time with Uncle Ron to not know curse words," Albus laughed, which landed him a playful slap to the head by Rose.

"He's right, you know," Hugo laughed.

There was more banter exchanged around as everyone grabbed a glass and filled it up.

"Now, if ye would start us off with a song, your Ladyship," Aileen called at Moire.

"I really don't think…"

"Oh, this is about to be good," Scorpius smirked, propping his feet on the stack of hay he was half laying on.

After some pleading, Moire agreed and there was a short silence before she started. James had to admit, she had quite a lovely voice. By the giggles around the room, James gathered they knew the song she was singing, and his doubts were quickly confirmed when she was accompanied by a flute and a fiddle and by the voices of his cousins as she reached each chorus. It told a story of a Scotsman who had come out of a bar, drunk out of his mind, and laid down in the grass to sleep. James realized the story would take a left when two girls passed by and wanted to confirm the rumors that Scotsmen didn't wear anything under their kilts, and he laughed in bewilderment as the girls tied a bow around the man's private parts. He could see that Albus and Scorpius were laughing so hard no sounds were coming out of their mouths. He soon joined them when Moire finished the song with the man going to answer nature's call and discovering the bow.

"…_Oh, lad I don't know where ye've been, but I see ye've won first prize!_" She finished, drawing a concert of laughs from her cousins.

"This one never gets old," Callum said, still chortling.

James had to admit, a good old dirty joke was never not funny.

"Alright, I'm done until I have at least half a handle of Firewhiskey in my system," the Slytherin Captain exclaimed.

"Sure, just try not to cry when you sing that song about the Loch Lomond, will ye," someone teased.

"Shut yer mouth, I never cry!"

_oOo_

James was drunk. In fact, everyone seemed to be drunk, which made the laughs louder and the music sound more harmonious, even though some of Moire's cousins could be extremely tone deaf. While the younger members present that night seemed to have fun, very few of them sang anything or told any story, letting the older ones take care of the entertainment. During a very funny moment, a few of the people present, including Fred and Albus, broke out in something that could only be described as half a reel and half a jig, under Callum's bagpiping and Dougal and Ewan's fiddling. Most of the songs were a little more on the raunchy side, and he double checked a few times to see if his sister was uncomfortable but she, and Hugh for that matter, were laughing along to the McLeoch clan's antics.

Moire sported a smile and a full cup every time he looked to his side. The only indication that she was even affected by the alcohol was that, as time passed, she leaned more and more against him. James tentatively intertwined their fingers, looking around to make sure no one noticed. They all seemed to be either too inebriated, falling asleep, or too enthralled by Fred and Callum, who each had their arm around the other's shoulders, singing a drinking song. He could see Moire smirk as she tightened her grip slightly around his hand.

"I have something to show you," she whispered in his ear and he felt goosebumps over his arms.

As half of the population in the barn gathered again to dance, she stood up and discreetly dragged him outside. The cold air snapped like a rubber band, but James barely felt it, as both the alcohol and his blood rushing through his veins from the beautiful redhead beside him distracted him.

"You might want to cast a warming charm on yourself," she said, doing so herself. "It's a bit cold where we're going."

He let go of her hand, immediately missing its warmth, to grab his own wand and do as she told him. When he was finished, she held out her arm with a smile. He grabbed it, and with a pop, both of them disappeared. Before he even opened his eyes again, he heard the sound of water. He opened them back up and was faced with the clearest body of water he had ever seen in his life. There was a waterfall that fell on rock before bouncing off it and breaking through the frozen, clear surface of the pool. A thin formation of rocks broke through the water, separating it in two, the second part covered with a smooth, thin sheet of ice, unbothered by the waterfall.

"Welcome to the Fairy Pools," Moire simply said, casting a few charms around them and sitting on a rock big enough to accommodate the both of them. She patted the spot next to hers and he complied. "My father and I used to come here around this time. Muggles tend to stay away from here at night this season because of the cold but a few extra charms for them to leave us alone never hurt."

"This is beautiful," he said, still looking around like a wide-eyed child.

"Isn't it? There are a few of them, but this one is my favorite. You'll see why in a bit. I think we scared them off with the noise of the Apparition, but they should come back in a bit."

Her hand sought his out as they waited, and soon enough, little balls of light rolled out from behind rocks, under cervices, and from inside the waterfall itself.

"Are those…?"

"Faeries," she said, cheerful. "Well, pixies, to be correct. That's why these are called Fairy Pools, even though they don't usually show themselves to Muggles."

As the balls of light came closer, James could make out features, clothes made out of twine and tiny flowers. Some had small, razor sharp teeth, others had long ears, all were looking at him curiously.

"I come here every year, I think they know me by now," Moire said as a couple of them rushed to her hair. They looked like little pompoms of light, diving in and out of her deep red locks, and soon a few more joined in.

"I heard Faeries were dangerous, though. I always heard Gran tell stories of them kidnapping children."

"Some do, yes. They love children. My father never let me come here alone when I was little. But pixies are mostly playful and as long as you don't offend them or disrespect them, you should be fine."

There was a small silence as she leaned her head against his, more pixies coming out to play on the surface of the water. James thought they looked like little tea lights, zooming around on the ice.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," she said after a little moment. "You want to kiss me about as much as I want to kiss you, right?"

"I think I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you in the Prefects' bathroom," he replied.

"Bloody hell, a pair of tits really can draw in any man," she joked, her head still nestled against his neck.

"Although it is a very nice pair, and they definitely did help a bit, it was mostly about you trusting me. And not yelling at me for a total of ten minutes."

She chuckled, not disturbing the little balls of lights who had now started to braid her hair in a quite haphazard manner.

"That day in the laundry room, though, and every day after that, I thought my family would notice and call me out," he added. Another silence settled between the two of them, but she didn't move.

"I was scared I'd snog the daylight out of you under the mistletoe," she finally told him after a minute. "I was certain that if I kissed you at all, it would be obvious to everyone just how much I wanted you. How much I still want you."

"What's stopping you?" James risked.

There was another silence but this time she did move. Straightening up, she dove her brown eyes deep into his. He realized just how close she was when he noticed for the first time that she had tiny, microscopic freckles splattered on her nose. She was biting her lip in an act that betrayed that she was just as nervous as he was. Then, she stopped, a light of determination in her eye and all the confidence Moire Bonnie McLeoch possessed seemed to return to her body. James thought she looked particularly stunning in that instant, wearing a large jumper and thick flannel pajamas, her hair sporting half a dozen messy braids, and the gleam of certitude in her eyes as she was surrounded by the little balls of light gathering around her head.

"For once? Nothing," she said, before grabbing him by the collar and crashing her lips into his.

In an instant, he had grasped her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap, her hands burying in his hair and his traveling up her back. They kissed under the light of the moon and of the Faeries for what seemed both like two minutes and two centuries at the same time before she untangled herself from him, her lips swollen and slightly parted as she caught her breath.

"Let's go," she simply panted out.

She didn't need to say it twice. They stood up and she Apparated them both to the side door they had exited the Manor from what seemed like so long ago, and she grabbed his hand as they both tiptoed their way around the estate trying not to giggle like schoolgirls. She signaled him to be quiet as they reached their wing and noticed lights and hushed laughter coming out of a few of the rooms. There had been one incident, as they reached Moire's room, where Kenzie came out of hers, not noticing them until her hand was on Callum's doorknob. She froze as she saw the two of them, realizing immediately what was happening.

"You're shagging Potter?"

"Not a word of this, because it seems like you're shagging Callum."

There was a short silence until McKenzie spoke.

"You didn't see anything and neither did I."

"Deal," James answered, Moire nodding at that.

"Throw silencing charms for Salazar's sake," the Slytherin captain begged as Kenzie disappeared in Callum's room.

The two Quidditch captains hurried in the room and Moire locked it behind them.

"I'm going to need you to Obliviate me so I can forget my cousin and my best mate are having sex a couple of doors away," she said, looking disgusted.

"I think I have a better way," James said mischievously. He closed the gap between them, hungrily covering his mouth with his.

Less than a second later, his lips traveled to her neck and as he hit the base of it, she let a gasp out. Considering it his green light, he nibbled on it, eliciting a moan from her throat, and he lifted her in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist.

"So, is that effective enough?" He asked with a lopsided smirk, trying to control his voice so she wouldn't realize just how badly he wanted to feel her skin under his fingers.

"Potter, stop talking, and fuck the brains out of me," she groaned.

The words stirred something in his stomach, and all he could do was oblige.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay y'all. Things are finally starting to heat up! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think, and I'll see you in the next chapter, which hopefully will come really soon. _

_Also, the song Moire sang at first is called The Drunk Scotsman. A lot of the inspiration for this chapter came from the show Outlander if you noticed._


	11. The Cèilidh

**The Cèilidh **

Moire kept her eyes firmly closed. This was all a dream, after all, and she was certain that the second she would open them, the rock solid arms around her waist and the warm chest against her back would disappear, and only a memory of the heavy pine and citrus scent would linger in her mind before it vanished too.

"So," James said, his voice an octave lower than usual due to sleep. "How long are you going to keep pretending you're asleep?"

"It's my dream, so until I want to," she responded, her eyes still stubbornly closed.

"Sorry to break it to you, love, but this most definitely is not a dream," he chuckled, his chest against the skin of her back rumbling from it.

"Whatever you say, Dream-Potter."

He didn't say anything, and Moire frowned, wondering if he was already starting to disappear. But then his lips met her shoulder and he started kissing all the way up to her neck. Her skin where his mouth had touched it felt like it was on fire, and only then did she dare open an eye. When the arms tightened around her instead of vanishing into smoke, she opened the second one and sighed as he found the sweet spot on the base of her neck.

"Still think you're dreaming?" He whispered against her skin.

In one swift move, she rolled around, effectively pinning him under her as she straddled his torso with her legs. She silently thanked the Founders at the sight of his body sculpted by years of Quidditch. One of his calloused hands grabbed her hip and he propped himself on his other arm, using it to pull himself up towards her and a small sigh escaped her lips as they met his. She took a second to appreciate how her morning was going before she extracted herself from his grip.

"Damn it, McLeoch," he groaned as she got out of bed, not bothering to cover herself up with a robe.

"I'm the future Laird, Potter. I can't lounge in bed all day."

"We wouldn't be lounging per se," he whined.

"While I'm sure you have a few more energy consuming activities in mind, my hangover potion won't make itself and trust me, the others spent a lot longer drinking than we did."

He fell back into her bed, not taking his eyes off of her.

"You're no fun," James declared.

"You certainly thought I was last night. So, with that, I'm off to take a shower."

Moire headed towards her bathroom door and as she was about to walk in, she looked back at James, who was staring at her appreciatively and she realized she must have been quite the sight, naked and with her hair all over the place from their activities. She smirked at him.

"What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to join me?"

She didn't need to tell him twice. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted and thrown across his shoulder like a potato sack, to which she left out a squeal and a laugh before he closed the door behind them. By the time they stepped out of the shower, James looked very smug, and Moire tried to not make it obvious that her legs were shaking. Her attempt of a death glare failed epically as for the first time since they had first met, her gaze was met with a laugh instead of the usual flash of fear in his hazel eyes that he always tried to mask. They stepped back into the room to find James' clothes and toothbrush sitting on her carefully made bed.

"How in the hell…?" James exclaimed upon the sight.

"Dolly comes in here every morning to clean up while I'm in the shower and she probably realized you weren't in your room."

James stared at her as she walked into her closet and picked out her outfit for the day. She was a little fancier than at the Burrow, picking out a white button-down shirt that she tucked carefully into a pair of jeans, and on a last second whim, she grabbed her Weasley sweater in her clan colors and threw it on top of the shirt. She threw her hair into a neat ponytail and stuck her wand in it.

"You know, for someone who lives in an actual castle and has house elves waiting on her, you certainly have never acted like a spoiled brat," she heard him say as she neatly arranged the shirt collar and the cuffs that poked out from under the shirt.

"You've met my mother. She would be quite disappointed if I was and that is more terrifying than having to endure one of the Laird's lectures about honor, grace, and excellence," she snorted in return, coming out once she was satisfied with her appearance.

Hair still damp and sticking out everywhere, James was sporting dark blue jeans and a gray woolen shirt that did wonders to his arms.

"You almost sound disappointed by that, Potter. Why, does Thompson bitching and moaning turn you on?"

She saw him shiver at her words and let out a laugh at his horrified expression. James shook it off and grabbed his toothbrush, both making their way back to the bathroom.

"I think we both know why I'd rather stay away from her, but why do you hate her so much?" The Gryffindor asked.

Moire took her time brushing her teeth, and James mirrored her actions, though he was watching her curiously. Once she was satisfied, she spat the toothpaste in the sink and spoke up.

"I wasn't too fond of her from the start, but I think that it all blew up in third year. I noticed she was picking on a second year Hufflepuff to make some guys laugh and the poor girl looked ready to start crying."

She rinsed her mouth, James still waiting for the rest of the story.

"I hexed her."

He almost choked on his toothpaste.

"You what?"

"You heard me. I took my wand out, aimed, and next thing you know, her hair started growing uncontrollably. Not only that, but she started growing a beard, mustache, and her eyebrows got so bushy she couldn't see anything through them. Madam Longbottom had to keep her overnight."

"I have never heard that. You'd think all of Hogwarts would know something like that!"

"Oh, there weren't many people around, and she threatened everyone who happened to be there that she would ruin their lives if they said anything. But since then, it's been openly hostile between her and me."

The two of them carefully exited the room, looking around to make sure none of their respective friends and relatives saw them leave the same room. Once the coast was clear, they made their way to the sitting room.

"You know, it's always bothered me how she puts other girls down to make herself look good when there is any decent looking bloke around, especially when you're said bloke. She'll pick on the shy ones too. Do you know how many times a younger Slytherin girl has come back into our common room crying because Thompson's belittled or embarrassed her?"

"I didn't realize it was that bad," James said quietly, frowning.

"It is. But it's alright, we look after our own. House Slytherin is more loyal to each other than most people are willing to believe. I feel bad for the Gryffindor girls who can't even run into their own common room to escape because she'll be there."

There was a small moment where their footsteps and the snoring of Moire's relatives in the portraits were the only sounds cutting the quiet. She could feel the wheels in James' head turning, trying to remember the times he was in Olivia's vicinity and she had a poor soul cornered and being made to make her look better. Then, from the corner of her eyes, she saw him turn around and look at her.

"Why aren't you a Gryffindor?"

She almost stopped dead in her tracks but turned around to look at him, keeping her expression even.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You stand up for people weaker than you, you're daring, and besides, you are probably the bravest person I have ever met, and I can't imagine you ever being scared of anything. That was my first impression of you, during the Sorting. We all looked nervous, and yet, when your name was called, you just walked up there, with your head high, and probably the most determination I have ever seen from anyone else before. I was so certain that you would be in Gryffindor then."

"I was terrified, James," she replied matter-of-factly. "Downright shitting my pants. But the thing about growing up in all of this," she explained, doing a vague encompassing gesture, "is that you learn to hide all of it quick, especially when you're at the center of it. My grandfather was alive still then, and I felt like I had to prove to him that I would be a great heir for the clan, and he always said good leaders are charismatic, ambitious, resourceful, all the qualities of a Slytherin. I wanted to be the best for the clan."

Talking about her grandfather brought out feelings she liked to bury deep in her stomach. She remembered the panic of knowing he would be visiting, the eagerness to please and maybe receive an approving look instead of the constant disappointed glare he reserved for her before he asked her father when he was planning on having a son. She interrupted her train of thoughts before the telltale shortness of breath and unhinged panic took hold of her.

"And then, Professor Longbottom put the Sorting Hat on my head. The Hat said I could be a good Gryffindor, but that ultimately, Slytherin was where I've always belonged."

James grinned at that.

"I was right, then!" He proudly exclaimed.

"Not quite," she replied, amused. "Besides, had we both been in Gryffindor, there is no way you would've gotten the team Captain position."

"Dream on, McLeoch," he scoffed back.

There was another silence as they stopped near the parlor. There was a new tenderness in James' eyes that made the pits of her stomach warm up.

"You just look so fearless most of the time, it never occurred to me you'd be scared of anything," the Gryffindor said, reaching out to put a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'm not scared of much, Potter, so whatever Gryffindor fantasies of holding my hand while I'm scared better go out the window," she joked, but not without fondness in her tone, reciprocating the way he was looking at her, and she suddenly wanted to kiss him, despite her great-great-great aunt Cullodena watching them with her strict gaze.

"Wouldn't dream of it, McLeoch," he murmured, cupping her cheek.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud laugh behind the door. Moire sighed and gave James a longing gaze, before fixing the cuffs of her shirt and opening the door. She smiled at the sight of her aunts. Lainie was, as usual, impeccably dressed, her red hair carefully gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck. Greer, her gray eyes framed by small lines from laughing seemed to have been in the middle of telling a story to Gavina, whose strawberry blonde hair stuck out from her bun and who seemed to have buttoned her shirt wrong, looking as undone as ever before her first sip of tea.

"Good morning, aunties!" She cheerfully called at Lainie, Greer, and Gavina.

"Is that my favorite niece?" Greer exclaimed as she walked into the room.

"And who's this handsome fellow ye've dragged along?" Gavina asked, winking at Moire.

"Good morning," James greeted in a way that would have made Ginny Potter proud.

"This is my friend James," she said, sitting down and grabbing the kettle as James sat next to her.

"For a second there I thought you meant James Potter," Aunt Gavina chuckled as she began to arrange her bun. "That would have been the event of the century."

"That _is_ James Potter," Moire simply said, scooping up sausages onto her plate.

The three looked at each other in stupor, before all of them burst out laughing.

"Nae way!" Greer cried halfway through what Moire could best describe as a cackle. "How many times have we had to hear her complain about James Potter this, and James Potter that, and now they're showing up tae breakfast together?"

"Well then, McLeoch. It seems like every one of your family members has heard about me," James joked.

"Can you blame me? I've wanted to rip your pretty head off of your body since we were in third year."

"Oh, so my head is pretty now?"

"Stop talking all that rubbish and eat, Potter," Moire sighed as rolled her eyes.

Her aunts glanced at each other, Gavina's eyes gleaming with the same little light of mischief it usually did when she was about to engage in her favorite activity. Greer cleared her throat before speaking up:

"Well then… the two of you are up early. Especially considering last night."

Moire almost dropped her scone and she heard James coughing from most likely choking on his tea.

"L-Last night?" She repeated dumbly.

"In the barn! How did that go?" Lainie asked with a smile.

"Oh right, the barn! Sorry, you know I can't say anything about it, what happens in the barn…"

"Yes, yes, stays in the barn," Lainie dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"It's not the end of the world if you sleep in, dear," Gavina assured.

"Aunt Gavina, how can you ever suggest that the daughter of the Laird of McLeoch sleep past sunrise!" Moire exclaimed.

"Oh, silly you, Gavina, of course Laird Alasdair McLeoch's child would never engage in such vulgar behaviors such as sleeping in!" Greer jokingly chastised.

"You dare utter the Laird's name in his house?" Lainie gasped, a laugh just beginning on her tongue.

"Please," Greer scoffed. "I remember him being a babbling toddler with an unreasonable fear of butterflies."

"Was it not crickets?" Aunt Lainie replied.

"Nairne said it was ladybugs," Gavina insisted.

"Enough about Alasdair in front of our guest. You'll have to excuse us, James, our brother is always so serious, we like to poke fun at him," Aoife apologized with a kind smile. "Tell us more about yourself! Moire mentioned you played Quidditch?"

"I'm a Chaser, and the Captain of the Gryffindor Team," he replied.

"Oh, a Chaser! I just love Chasers, don't you Moire?" Gavina smirked in a way that made Moire want to run away.

"Considering it's my job to stop them from getting the Quaffle past me, not so much, although this git has managed to score too many times for my liking," she mumbled.

"Well what can I say, McLeoch, I'm good at what I do," he said with a lopsided yet dazzling smile that made her want to drag him into the nearest broom closet.

"Twat," she mumbled low enough for only him to hear.

"Again," he replied in the same tone of voice, "I'm good at what I do."

Moire felt like her face was ready to explode at James' comment. She could see him hiding a smirk behind his cup of tea from the corner of his eyes.

"Are ye alright, my dear?" The funniest of her three aunts asked as she noticed her flushed cheeks.

"Yes, Aunt Greer. Just a little warm, that's all," she lied through her teeth, refraining from throwing a death glare to the idiot next to him.

She swallowed the last of her tea and stood up.

"It was great talking to you, aunties, but that hangover potion isn't going to make itself. Ready, Potter?" She asked, and before he had the chance to answer, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him our of his chair.

"Oi, slow down McLeoch," he exclaimed, barely grabbing his last piece of buttered toast. "It was nice meeting all of you!"

"Nice meeting you as well, James!" Lainie called with a laugh.

"Moire, darling, leave your hair down today," Gavina added.

"Why so, Aunt Gavina?"

"Well, it suits you well. But mostly because it would help hide whatever James left on your neck last night. A little towards the back of it."

Her hand shot up to her neck and James cleared his throat, looking rather red. She threw him a death glare and ran to the nearest mirror to inspect herself. She frowned when she couldn't find anything.

"Oh, it must have been a shadow, dear," Gavina said in a very falsely apologetic tone. "But it did confirm my suspicions."

"Very funny, Aunt Gavina," she replied sarcastically. "How do you sleep at night?"

"On silk sheets, darling."

Rolling her eyes and grabbing James' arm again, Moire opened the door just as her Aunt Bridget was about to walk in. The older woman was dressed impeccably, her tartan robes without a single wrinkle or lint on them, and her dark hair streaked with white held in an impossibly tight bun. Holding back a sigh as her aunt's bespectacled strict gaze traveled to her hand on the young Gryffindor's wrist and her already pinched expression somehow tensed up a little more. Moire thanked the Founders she was already on her way out.

"Good morning, Aunt Bridget," she greeted, her expression deceitfully pleasant.

"Good morning," James saluted, following her example.

"I could hear the lot of you all the way down the corridor," Bridget coldly said, ignoring both of their greetings.

"It is customary to joke and catch up when we see family, Bridget," Greer spoke up from the table, a good-natured expression on her face. "Come and have something to eat."

Bridget obliged, heading towards the table to pour herself a cup of tea.

"Also, I believe I have told you numerous times that wands should be out of sight and carried in one's sleeve or holder, certainly not in hair," she commented authoritatively.

"Maybe in 1750, Aunt Bridget," Moire mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said certainly, Aunt Bridget," she corrected with the sweetest smile she could muster. "We'll be taking our leave. Enjoy the rest of breakfast!"

Moire all but ran out of the parlor, James on her heel.

"I am so sorry about that," she sighed. "Aunt Bridget is… prickly."

"To say the least. I wonder how it would go if she ever met Gran," James mused.

"It would quite possibly be the best moment of my life, and something I would pay a lot of money to see," Moire chuckled.

They had stopped in the middle of a hallway and Moire suddenly felt exhausted. She loved her family, but she didn't particularly enjoy interacting with Bridget, or Fergus for that matter. The open hostility that she couldn't very well meet with one of her own were getting quite old, and any interaction with them brought back memories of her grandfather. She was in the middle of a spiraling thought process when she felt a hand lifting her face by her chin and suddenly, she wasn't looking at the dark red carpets that lined the corridors but straight into James Potter's hazel eyes. Her own closed as she felt his lips on hers for about a second.

"What was that for?" She asked, eyes still closed, when he stopped, his fingers still on her chin.

"You looked like you needed a distraction."

She opened her eyes and the two of them stared at each other for a little while before she turned around and started walking down the hall. He followed her with a smirk.

"To your potions room, I'm assuming?" He asked, recalling that she still needed to brew a hangover potion for the others.

"We're making a quick detour first," she responded, her tone even, before she stopped by a door and opened it.

"Where to?"

"Broom closet. Now get in here."

_oOo_

Moire felt like her skin was still on fire. In fact, she was certain that her cheeks were flushed, and her lips still bruised. She had done her best to fix her clothes but still felt like she looked a mess. Not Potter, though. He looked cool as a cucumber sitting on his chair watching her work, perfectly composed, and the only thing that might have been an indication that something might have gone on in that broom closet was that his hair looked messier than before he'd gone in, kind of the same way it did after a Quidditch game. She tried to not think too much at how intensely he was staring at her, almost burning a hole through her skull. Every time she looked at him to tell him to cut it off, he smiled at her with that lopsided smile every girl in Hogwarts kept gushing about and she'd instantly forget what she was about to say. He also occasionally would look at the instruction in her book and ask questions about a certain step she did differently, or why she replaced an ingredient. Moire always answered patiently, appreciative of the fact that he was paying enough attention to her to notice her actions. She finally added the last ingredient and turned down her flame.

"Why potions?" He asked as she started bottling the contents of her cauldron.

"What do you mean?" Moire answered, still focused on her task.

"What made you like potions so much? If I recall, you didn't seem to particularly like or hate it in first and second year."

That made her stop. She turned to him, a smirk on her face.

"Awww, Potter. You noticed?"

His cheeks flushed pink and he looked away, frowning.

"Well, it's not like people don't notice you, McLeoch," he mumbled back, making her chuckle.

"Slughorn was an expert in his field, but he's not exactly what I'd call captivating. Besides, he had that weird club of his that he always asked me to join. I only showed up to a couple of events, but Salazar's lace knickers, I have never to this day wanted to rip my eyes out of their sockets as much as I did at Slug's Club. Who calls it that?"

"Trust me, he wasn't exactly leaving me alone either," James exclaimed, shuddering at the reminder. "With Mum and Dad being who they were…"

He let out another shudder before gesturing to continue.

"And then, he retired, and Professor Khan took over. Her style of teaching was quite different, and she got me interested in her class. Then at some point, halfway through our first year with her, she asked me to stay after class, and she told me that I had a great potential in potions and that if I just applied myself a little more, I could be great. So that's what I did, and I slowly started to like it more and more, until I wanted to do a career in potions," she finished with a shrug, capping the last bottle.

"I think you'd be a great Professor," James declared with a soft smile that made the pit in her stomach warm.

Moire bit her lip before she walked over to the chair he was still sitting in before she sat on his lap facing him, straddling his legs with hers.

"I think we have some time before they start waking up," she said gently as she put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers expertly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"What's wrong, McLeoch? Can't keep your hand off of me?" He asked with a smirk, the only thing betraying his emotions being the breathlessness in his voice. Well, that as well as…

"Seems like you're not against it either," she whispered in his ear before she nibbled on it.

He cursed under his breath, making her stomach drop.

"Is the door even locked?" He asked through gritted teeth, his hands already making their way under her shirt.

"Wouldn't it make it more fun if it wasn't?" She chuckled, focusing her efforts on his jaw.

"You're going to be the end of me, McLeoch," he whined as her hand slithered to the zipper of his pants.

"Relax, Potter, it's locked," Moire said, rolling her eyes. "If anyone wants to come in, they'll have to…"

"Moire?" Rose's voice came through the door, following three knocks.

"…knock," she finished with a sigh. "Coming, Rose! Just bottling this up."

"It's already bottled," James whispered as he fixed his shirt.

"I know, you idiot, we both look like a mess," she responded in the same tone, tucking her shirt back in her pants and fixing her hair.

She rushed to the door and opened it to find Rose and Albus outside. Albus raised an eyebrow at the sight of his brother, sitting on a chair with a fake nonchalance Moire envied.

"Interrupting something?" The younger Slytherin asked, the beginning of a smirk on his face promising he was up to absolutely no good.

"Not much, you git, just finished a hangover potion I thought your sorry asses might need. Although Albus, you look like you learned how to handle your liquor since the wedding," she teased.

"Very funny, Moire."

"I thought so too, Albie."

She took her wand out of her hair and with a flick, all the bottles started levitating behind her.

"Alright, let's head over, then. Wouldn't want them to have to face the morning after with just tea, right?"

They headed out and just as she stepped out, Moire realized James wasn't behind her.

"Potter, you alright?" She asked, turning around.

"You head over, I'll catch up. I got a… ahem… cramp in my leg. Just… just have to let it pass," he said, a sheepish smile on his face.

She blinked a couple of times, before she finally connected the dots and she had to stifle a laugh while also forcing her eyes not to travel down to see how bad exactly it was.

"Take your time," she declared after clearing her throat. "We'll be in the parlor for a little while. If you get lost, ask the portraits."

The three of them headed to the parlor while chattering lightly. As they got close, Moire could hear the voices from behind the doors. She smirked as she opened the doors with a bang, yelling a greeting as she walked in, making half of her cousins, as well as Aunt Aoife and Aunt Cadha, flinch.

"Och, feck off," Ewan groaned from where he was laying on the carpet, holding his head.

"Mind yer mouth, I raised you better," Cadha groaned.

"No, you didnae, Ma!"

"The lot of ye look awful," Moire mused before she settled the bottles on the counter, its red content sloshing around as they settled on the table. "The adult party went hard as well, I see," she added as she noticed a lot of her older cousins were there as well.

"Respect yer elders ye brats," Aoife exclaimed as she insisted on having the first serving.

"Ma probably drank more than everyone combined yesterday," her daughter Isla joked, resulting in quite a few laughs.

"We are going to have a great conversation later on about what I saw last night," Kenzie whispered as the rest of her family made a beeline towards the potion.

"McKenzie, you've seen how Aunt Gavina gets when she hears even a single whisper of one of her dear nieces and nephews having somewhat of a love life?"

"What does that have to do with…?"

"What do you think would happen if she finds out her own son is shagging her favorite niece's best mate?"

There was a silence between the two of them.

"You're evil."

"You've no idea, love."

James chose that time to come in, looking a lot more put together than he had been previously. He winked discreetly at her and she held back a smile.

_oOo_

The next few days seemed to pass as a blur. Between the drunken nights and the lazy mornings, it seemed like they all lost track of time. Moire and James took advantage of every second they could get alone. He had not slept over every night, much to Moire's chagrin. However, she had missed her cousins and welcomed the sleepovers with all of them. The second night had been a girls' night, while about ten of them piled up on her magically expanded bed. She was squeezed in the middle of it, Lily on her right and Kenzie on her left, and the giggles continued until the wee hours of the morning.

"Are ye sure there's nothing between you and Potter?" Aileen asked, wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk, inciting cheers from the other girls in the room.

"No, there isn't," she lied through her teeth, grateful for the dark for hiding her reddening ears.

"So ye don't want me to tell them about the rumors that rattled all of Hogwarts?" Maureen, who had preferred lying horizontally at the foot of the bed, piped up. "And Elspeth, move yer blasted feet, they're directly in my face!"

"It's yer fault, face the other way!"

"Shut yer mouths! What rumors?" Aileen squealed, sitting up straight, making Innis yelp as she almost fell from her spot at the edge of the bed.

"Moire here was cozying up with Potter and leaning on him all the way to the Hospital Wing," McKenzie giggled.

"Traitor," Moire mumbled. "And as a matter of fact, I did not _cozy up_ to Potter, Malfoy and the other Potter almost broke my ribs at Quidditch practice and I couldn't walk straight, so he was nice enough to help me out!"

"That's what they all say," Roxanne snickered.

"Speaking of Malfoy! Rose, there's something between the two of ye, right?" Maureen piped up.

"Wha—no! There—," the poor girl stuttered, audibly flustered.

"Relax, Rosie," Roxy laughed. "We know. Hell, Aunt Hermione, Aunt Fleur, and Aunt Ginny all placed bets months ago, and as of now, Aunt Ginny is about twenty galleons richer. Uncle Ron doesn't know, don't worry. And of course, Hugo, James, Fred, and Albus are all too dense to realize."

"Wait! I didn't know!" Lily exclaimed, making her cousins sigh.

"Lily, you're oblivious."

"I reckon they won't take too long to realize you two are shagging, you're quite obvious about it…"

"Innis! Language! Aila is too pure for this!" Elspeth gasped.

"Callum has a very colorful vocabulary, I've heard it all," the youngest reassured her.

"I bet he does," Kenzie mumbled.

"You'd know, wouldn't you," Moire whispered low enough for her to hear, causing Kenzie to elbow her, resulting in a shift of everyone, as they were packed like sardines.

To not raise any questions, James and Moire were as discreet as they could be. So, she had gone to his room the day after the girls' sleepover. The day after that, everyone had slept at the barn, and the night after, he came to her room. After that, they contented themselves with sneaking around the castle during the day, trying to avoid the rest of their families. Finally, the night before New Year's Eve, they had snuck back to her room, enjoying having the rest of the night ahead of them. It was almost insane how much they complemented each other. In fact, James had learned how to make her body react better than anyone else she had been with. Maybe he cared more to learn than they had or maybe he was just good at what he did, but he seemed to enjoy making her scream, sigh, and squirm. And she returned the favor.

"You're driving me insane, McLeoch," he had grunted at one day, while they tried to make the best out of the hour before they had to head to dinner.

The morning of December 31st found her waking up, snuggled up to James, to a firm knock at her door. Confused she opened her eyes, the sky still dark outside, her mind still fuzzy and disoriented. All she knew was that she was thirsty, and maybe still a little drunk from the night before. Behind her, James stirred.

"A bhobain?"

The fog cleared out of her brain faster than if someone had hit her with an ice cold Aguamenti.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath. She didn't stop there. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Potter," she called, roughly shaking his shoulder.

"Wha—," he mumbled before she roughly put her hand over his mouth.

"Shhh! The Laird!"

He seemed confused until her father knocked on the door again.

"Moire."

James' eyes widened in understanding. Both of them leaped out of the bed.

"One second, Da," Moire exclaimed.

She grabbed her wand on the bedside table and lit the candles, shedding some light in her room. Grabbing James' discarded t-shirt on the floor, she slipped it on, going on a quest for her underwear next. Seeing it poking from under her bed, she quickly put it on. She didn't have time to look for her pants, which were nowhere to be seen as of now, and instead picked up the emerald silk robe hanging from her changing screen and slipped it on.

"Grab the clothes on the ground and go hide!" She hissed in a low voice in James' direction.

"Where?" He replied, panicked, in the same tone.

"Bathroom!"

She would certainly find the scene funny when she revisited it in her mind later on. James Potter, butt naked, a ball of clothes in his arms, and running into her bathroom to hide from her father was not the way she intended her year to end. Moire fastened the robe around her waist, the soft fabric descending all the way to her ankles, and she went to open the door. Her father, as impeccably put together as usual, already dressed, his hair combed, the white shirt tucked in his kilt free of any wrinkles.

"Good morning, Da," she greeted, stepping aside to allow him inside.

With a flick of her wand, her bed was made, although she knew that the house elves would come by while she was showering to change the sheets. She sat on her bed, hands folded on her lap, as he moved to take a seat across from her on the chair of her vanity. Her father frowned as he picked up her pajama pants that she vaguely remembered James throwing across the room that had apparently landed on the chair.

"I must have gotten warm during the night," she apologetically explained, trying hard not to blush.

He didn't press the matter much. Instead, he simply threw the pajamas on her bed and sat down on the chair.

"I wanted to go over today," the Laird said in his usual solemn tone and strong accent.

"Da, I have been to many Cèilidhs. It's quite straightforward."

"Today will be different, a bhobain. Today, ye will not sit as the daughter of the house but address them as their future Lady."

She blinked a couple of times.

"What do you mean, _address them_?" She finally said.

"Ye will be leading the Cèilidh in my stead today, as it is customary to do so in honor of your introduction."

Her heart started racing at the thought. She wasn't usually scared of speaking in public, but the mere thought of standing there, on maybe what could be one of the most important days of her life if not _the _most important one, as she stared at their allies and at her Grandfather through her Aunt Bridget's disproving glare sent shivers down her spine. This was all she had ever wanted since she was a little girl, and while her cousins daydreamed of what their weddings would look like, she allowed her mind to wonder at the possibility of her sitting in her father's chair. Sometimes, she had imagined a faceless man sitting by her side, but it was never the focus of her vision.

"But Da, ye're still Laird…"

"I am aware," he replied with an amused smile. "And it is only a tradition for the newly announced heir on the night they are introduced as such, so enjoy it tonight, because ye willnae get to do so again until I retire from my duties many, many, _many_ years from now. So, listen well: I will announce to the allies that ye will be taking over once I step down. Then, ye will stand up and switch places with me. Do not sit in my usual seat until ye have thanked the clans for their loyalty and their presence. I dinnae care what ye say, but make a small speech, and make it good."

"Like you do every year," she nodded, her hands now balled up under the exhilaration and nervousness.

"Exactly like I do every year. Then, ye will sit down in my usual chair, and the ceremony will go from there. Each clan will come up and pledge loyalty. As officiant of the Cèilidh, ye cannae doze off or lose focus because ye must thank every clan who comes to us by name."

Moire nodded, her throat suddenly in a knot. she thought briefly of James, in the bathroom, and a sudden desire to laugh took over her. She buried it deep in her stomach and cleared her throat, listening to her father.

"Then, ye will lead the toast, and the worst part of the night is over, and from there, we can all drink and dance until the sun comes up."

She nodded again, the whole situation seeming surreal. It was there. It was finally there. The day she had longed for as a child that seemed like it would never happen.

"Something wrong, a bhobain?" He asked at her silence.

"I—what if I can never be as great a Laird as you, Da?" She asked, making sure to breathe so tears wouldn't go to her eyes.

"Well, lass, whatever mess ye make when it is yer time to rule this clan, it could never be as bad as what Fergus would do," he said, his tone as serious and even as it could be.

Then, she saw the crinkles around his eyes, and both of them burst out laughing. Moire wiped a tear of joy at the corner of her eye and once both of them had quieted down, her father looked at her with a smile.

"If I wasnae absolutely sure ye'd be the best person to lead this clan, I wouldnae have chosen ye, dear one," he reassured her, his voice abnormally soft. "This is what I raised ye for. And I am proud to call ye my daughter, a bhobain."

She flung herself into her father's arms and he patted the back of her head affectionately. She broke off their embrace as her father stood up to take his leave.

"Go get ready for the day. Yer friends may wear our tartan as yer guests, if they wish to do so. They are great kids."

"Aye, that they are," she agreed.

As he was about to take his leave, the Laird paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"I know ye complained about James Potter a lot in the past few years, but from what I could tell, he's quite a good lad, and I think he would be a fine addition to any family."

Moire bit her tongue to keep from blushing and cleared her throat.

"I will be sure to pass on the message to him."

Her father smiled before leaving, closing the door behind him. She immediately dashed to the bathroom, finding the pile of clothes discarded behind the door, and James in his boxers, leaning against the sink.

"Good, you're here! Maybe a little late for the warning, but I'm pretty sure I left my wand on your nightstand so here's hoping your father didn't see it," he said when she stormed in.

"You're ridiculous," she sighed.

"Well, apparently, according to your father, I'm a great lad and any woman would be lucky to have me," he smirked.

"Oh, shut up," she chuckled, playfully slapping his arm.

"Make me," he suggested.

Morning breath be damned, she stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him gently. Breaking away from their kiss, she looked at him in the eyes for a second, memorizing the changing colors in his hazel eyes, and how the warm honey dissolved into green, she asked, her heart hammering, as the question seemed a lot more loaded than she originally thought it to be:

"Wear my clan's tartan tonight?"

His eyes bore into hers with the intensity only James Sirius Potter could muster, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He looked at her as if he was trying to memorize every freckle on her face.

"It would be an honor to," he finally said, and she let out a breath she didn't she was holding.

"Damn right it would," she tried to tease, but her voice came out a lot softer than she was expecting it to.

He kissed her forehead and her heart skipped a beat, causing every alarm in her brain to start blaring at the same time. She shoved every single one of them to the back of her mind. The day of the Cèilidh was definitely not the day to start questioning whether or not she felt more than just lust towards Potter.

_oOo_

Moire inspected the braids circling her head one more time. Not a single hair was out of place, just like the first three times she had inspected them. The delicate bergamot flowers on her ears seemed to be put on display and shone brighter than usual. She fiddled with the cuffs of her puffy sleeved pristine white shirt before she stood up to take a look at herself. She started at the top of her head, where the crown of auburn braids sat firmly on her head, to the simple makeup around her eyes, contrasting with the bold red on her lips, down the crisp white shirt and the tartan that started draped and pleated over her left shoulder and tied with a solid black leather belt around her waist and over the shirt, cinching it tightly, as it fell in a big heavy skirt, hiding the short heels that she had cast an couple of cushioning charms on for good measure. Her wand was tucked into her belt, out of sight and Aunt Bridget's criticism. She was starting to regret eating dinner. In truth, she had felt too nervous to eat, but in fear of raising suspicions, and also knowing that she would regret not eating after the Cèilidh would be over, she had forced herself to swallow a generous portion, which was now doing summersaults in her stomach.

"Moire, how the hell do I… oh, my god," she heard as her door opened, the noise suddenly drowning her room being the only indication of the chaos occurring outside.

Looking up, she was met with Kenzie's wide eyes.

"You look…"

"Like a Scottish meringue?" The new heir offered, looking down at the wide skirt.

There was a silence, and both of them burst into laughter.

"Arsehole," Moire smirked as McKenzie closed the door, quieting the noise.

"We wouldn't be mates if I wasn't."

"That is very true."

"Don't be scared, Moire. You will be amazing tonight, and your father could not have chosen a better person to take over the clan."

Of course, aside from James and Callum, she had told her best mate about the Laird's decision. She would need her support at the Cèilidh. For the event, Kenzie was sporting a beautiful navy-blue dress that fell down to her ankles and holding the McLeoch tartan in her hands. Her light brown hair had been curled and pinned in quite a fashionable hairdo that complimented her face quite well.

"How am I supposed to wear this?"

"You could wear it as a sash. Hold on."

Moire took it off her hands and laid it on her bed, starting the task of pleating it. After a comfortable silence, she spoke again:

"Clan MacIntyre has navy blue in their tartan. It would suit your dress quite well."

"You're terrible," Kenzie exclaimed, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"And you love me," Moire smiled, picking up the tartan and draping it over her shoulder. Kenzie held it in place as she grabbed a pin and fastened it at her waist. "There you go."

"It's not like that, between Callum and I," her mate assured.

"McKenzie, I don't mind. There are worst things than my best mate shagging my cousin. It's gross, but Besides, you think I haven't seen you sigh at the sight of him every day while he was still at Hogwarts."

"Nothing near how badly you fancied Potter in second year. Well, look at us now," Kenzie chuckled as Moire fussed over her belt.

"Listen to me, if you tell Emma, Erin, or Leah about this, I will throw you into the Great Lake."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of! You usually tell us about the guys you've shagged, what's the issue now? Is there something different this time?"

Moire did not respond. Instead, she turned towards the mirror, attempting to find a flaw, whether it be a hair out of place or a crease in her shirt. She found nothing.

"Moire… are you falling for Potter?"

Her reaction was almost visceral. Moire whipped back around, her expression a mix between furious and terrified.

"Don't say it!" She exclaimed loudly, her brows furrowed. "Don't say it…," she repeated again, her voice barely above a whisper this time, and she brought her arms around her body, as if the action itself would protect her.

"Moire… what's going on?"

"If you say it, it makes it real, and I _cannot_ be falling in love with Potter."

She didn't want to dwell much on how fast her heart was beating every time she pictured his lopsided smirk, and infuriating way he messed his hair up to make it seem like he had just come off his broom. The more she did, the faster her thoughts spiraled around, making the belt around her waist feel tighter, and the petticoat under her skirt heavier, until she couldn't breathe. There was a moment where McKenzie seemed to want to say something but decided against it. Instead, she nodded, grabbing Moire's hand with her own and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I won't talk about it. My lips are sealed."

"They better be," Moire weakly joked.

After a pregnant pause, the daughter of the house declared they should probably get going. She took a second to compose herself. Her spine straight, her shoulders back, and her chin up, she slipped back into her confident and graceful armor. Opening the door, she stepped out into the hallway. The two young Slytherins were greeted with a cacophony of colors. While her male cousins were all dressed similarly with white shirts, black jackets, sporrans, and their clan kilts, the girls had managed to get creative with their own attires. Some had incorporated their tartans into their dresses, while a few wore it as sashes. Usually, Moire got creative, but tonight, she had opted for a more formal option, similar to what her aunts or her mother might wear. There was a deafening silence as she exited her room, feeling everyone's curious gaze on her.

"Och, have ye forgotten whit ah looked like, twats?" She barked, frowning.

The noise picked up too slowly for her, and she still felt like she was being stared at, but nobody said anything. Callum came up to them, an easy smile on his face, looking proud in the green, blue, red, and white MacIntyre cloth.

"Both of you are looking particularly stunning," he complimented, grabbing Kenzie's hand and kissing her knuckles.

"If ye even think about it, I will crush yer bollocks, do ye understand," Moire warned as he moved to do the same to her.

"And after I went through the trouble of helping your friends as you asked," he lamented jokingly.

"Oi, McLeoch, isn't there a much easier way to put these on?" Albus frowned, joining them along with Fred and Scorpius. Of course, his hair looked just as much a mess as usual, but the McLeoch colors made his eyes stand out.

"What do you mean?" She asked, confused.

"The whole pleating and getting on the floor? Isn't there a trick, or a shortcut?" Fred asked, adjusting his cuffs.

Laughter started bubbling up in her throat. Then, Moire met Callum's mischievous gaze and all resolve broke as the two of them erupted in loud laughter.

"What's so funny?" The middle Potter child exclaimed.

"I cannae believe ye made them lay on the floor," she exclaimed between laughs.

"I thought the clan McLeoch liked tradition," her cousin replied, wiping a tear at the corner of her eyes.

"Is that not how you do it?" Scorpius asked indignantly.

"I mean, that's how _some _Scots do it," Callum justified.

"Aye, the Muggle kind. There's a spell for it!" Moire explained, still giggling.

"Unbelievable! James, there's a spell for it! He made us get on the floor to take the piss out of us!"

The laughter died in her throat as she noticed James walk towards them. The world effectively stopped as he walked over, dressed in her clan colors, and for a microsecond, the faceless, nameless husband in some of her childhood visions took the form of James Sirius Potter wearing a kilt. She shut down the idea as soon as it touched her mind. If she allowed her brain to go that far, she would be in serious trouble. There was a glimmer of awe in his eyes as he took her in, and the words seemed stuck in his throat.

"You look…," he started, before clearing his throat. "You look great."

"Thank you," she forced out, glad when her voice came out neutral.

"Moire! You look beautiful!" Lily, who was looking quite dignified in a long green dress and the tartan worn as a shawl, complimented, walking up to her, Rose and Hugo on her trail.

"Lads and lassies!" They heard Dougal say from down the corridor. "It is five minutes to nine o'clock."

Moire took a deep breath as the gaggle of teenagers and young adults started making their way down to the Great Hall.

Like every year, the Great Hall was decorated in festive colors, fire roaring in the large chimney. The tables and chairs had been pushed to the edges of the room, freeing the floor for dancing and more importantly for clans to line up when they renewed their allegiance to the clan for the upcoming year. At the back of the room was a slightly raised platform with three large chairs. Fiona McLeoch was already seated in hers, which was located on the right, and Moire smiled at her mother, who returned a reassuring one of her own, as she made her way to her usual seat, on the left. Her father was standing near the platform, speaking with her Uncle Graham, who was Aunt Gavina's husband. Some people made their way up the stairs to the balcony, mostly the teens and children, to have a better view of the ceremony, while the adults, who would be coming up to her later on, stood around the room. The more people trickled into the room, the tighter the knot was in her throat. Finally, the last of her relatives walked in, Uncle Graham went back to stand near Aunt Gavina, and her father went to stand in front of his chair between Moire and her mother. He didn't need to demand silence from the room, as the conversations quieted down on their own.

"To my sisters, my brothers through marriage, my cousins, my nieces, my nephews, and, most importantly, allies to the clan of McLeoch. I welcome you tonight to the annual Cèilidh."

A thunder of applause interrupted him, accompanied with a few whistles. A large smile on his face, Laird Alasdair McLeoch waited for it to die down before he spoke again.

"Today is an important day for our clan. Today marks the New Year that my wife, my daughter, and myself are pleased to spend amongst you all. Today, we renew our alliance for the year to come, and pray that our union lasts for centuries to come."

Another thunder of applause. Moire couldn't help but curse her father silently. Of course, the eloquent bastard had the room eating in the palm of his hand. How was she supposed to follow _that_ up?

"But today is a special day for the future of the clan of McLeoch. Today, I have finally chosen the person who will be following in my footsteps and who will be taking over my duties when I step down as Laird."

This time, there were no applause. Instead, hushed whispers spread like wildfire through the room, and Moire, her face void of any emotion, scanned the room. She met Callum's eye, over on the balcony, and he winked discreetly at her. Next to him, Kenzie had her hands clasped together in front of her chest. A little further away, James was smiling at her, nodding his support subtly. At the front of the crowd, she could see Fergus with a small, smug smile on his lips. _Cocky bastard,_ she thought. Aunt Bridget's eyes were wide as saucers as she waited for the Laird to finally announce the heir to the clan.

"I have chosen someone whom I know loves this clan just as much as I do and who was raised to be proud of our name, our colors, and our traditions. With this, it will come as no surprise that I have chosen my own daughter, Moire, as she is now of age, to be the next Lady of the clan and carry out our legacy."

_There we go_, she thought, as her Aunt's lips all but disappeared into a thin line, her gaze hardening. Fergus looked like a fish straight out of the water. The whispers intensified, which did not seem to deter the Laird in any way.

"As it is customary when the new heir is announced, tonight's Cèilidh will be led by her tonight."

He motioned her to take his place. Legs trembling, Moire stood up, allowing a gracious smile to decorate her features, but also mostly to hide how utterly terrified she was. Her father kissed her forehead before he moved over to the chair she had previously occupied.

"Good evening, all. As my father has said, today is a special day for the clan of McLeoch, and as we welcome our friends and family into this hall tonight for the customary swearing of allegiance. But first, I would like to acknowledge that the Cèilidh is not a Cèilidh without you all present, and so my father, mother, and myself thank each and every one of you for your presence tonight. And with this, may the annual Cèilidh begin!"

As soon as the last word had left her mouth, the balcony, led by Callum, erupted in applause and whistles, soon to be joined by the rest of her family. Aunt Cadha whistled loudly, making Aunt Nairne laugh at her antics, though she still looked quite proud. In fact, most of her relatives seemed to be content with her father's decision, with the exception of Fergus and Aunt Bridget. Iain, Bridget's second son, looked as if Christmas had come early. Years of rivalry and obvious favoritism from both their Grandfather and Bridget, as well as Fergus most likely boasting every chance that he could get that he most likely would be the next Laird of the clan, probably made the moment ever so sweet to Iain. Of course, Fergus would be the Laird of the clan MacTavish, but he would always have to swear loyalty to Moire, and that was something she pettily relished in. She sat down in her seat, briefly meeting James' gaze again and for a second, the noise stopped when she saw the look of admiration and pride on his face. She was interrupted by her father, as his hand gave her shoulder an approving squeeze.

"Very good, a bhobain," he whispered as he leaned in.

She smiled in return as the room shifted, with a semi organized line starting to form. There had always been an unofficial order as far as she could remember. It was usually her aunts and their husbands first. Then, her father's cousins and their spouses. Lastly, it was the cousins and second cousins old with their own families. She felt a mix of satisfaction and dread as she realized that Aunt Bridget would be first, and Fergus would be part of the last group to come up. Bracing herself, she straightened up, as Aunt Bridget and Uncle Bram walked up. Her Aunt's face was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were piercingly angry and dark, betraying her oh-so-carefully crafted mask.

"The MacTavish clan swears tae give ye our fealty and our loyalty, as the head of our alliance. May we follow ye into the bloodiest o' battles, into the harshest o' winters, an' into the happiest o' celebration, and were we to raise against ye in rebellion, may our own wands turn on us an' strike us where we stand," Uncle Bram said, his thick moustache barely moving along with his mouth.

"The McLeoch clan thanks the MacTavish clan," she replied, looking directly at her Aunt Bridget, who kept her eyes firmly locked into Moire's father in a silent battle. "May we protect ye from your enemies, aid ye in yer time o' need, an' uphold yer name along wi' ours."

Uncle Bram turned around and made his way back to the back of the room, but Aunt Bridget stood in her spot for a few seconds, still giving the Laird a death glare that he returned with an unimpressed one of his own. She shifted her gaze to Moire, squinted at her, then huffed and joined her husband. Aunt Aoife behind her stared at her with a raised eyebrow before she rolled her eyes at her sister's behavior. She gave Moire a reassuring smile as she stepped up with her husband, Uncle Gregor, for the McCormick clan to pledge their loyalty.

_oOo_

After an exhausting hour and a half that turned Moire's brain into mush, she stood up, her last relatives finally returning to their seat. With a flick of her wand, glasses of Firewhiskey made their way to those of age, while butterbeers were served to the younger guests. All stood up, drinks in hand, and the room fell deadly quiet as she swept her eyes through the crowd.

"The pledges of loyalty have been spoken for the upcoming year. An' now, may the festivities begin. _Slàinte Mhath!_" She exclaimed with a wide smile, raising her glass.

Her cheer was echoed enthusiastically through the room as they drank. The liquid warmed her stomach, the sensation calming her nerves. Or maybe it was because she was done with the hardest part of the night and would not get to do this again until years from now. She felt both relieved and sad at the realization. While it had been nerve-wracking to lead the ceremony, she didn't think she had ever felt prouder than at that moment. The room dissolved in laughs, cheers, and conversations, and the music instruments in the back of the room rose and began to play lively music.

"Ye did just fine, a bhobain," her father said, squeezing her shoulder.

Which, if the gleam in his eye were any indication, meant there was no possible way it could have gone better, unless maybe the heavens opened up and Merlin himself graced them with his presence. Her mother engulfed her into a hug, a smile wide enough to compensate for the lack of it on her husband's face.

"You will be a wonderful Lady," she assured her. "Now go join your friends!"

She happily did so. As she arrived near her cousins and friends, Dougal gave her a pat on the back that nearly dislocated her shoulder.

"You git! Did you know this whole time and didn't tell us!" Duncan exclaimed, laughing incredulously.

"Sorry, I was told to keep it discreet," she replied apologetically.

"I knew," Callum piped up.

"Shut yer trap, Callum!" Was the consensus.

"You were brilliant, Moire!" Lily declared, her eyes shining with admiration.

Moire smiled at the younger girl, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair affectionately from fear of messing up her carefully crafted curls.

"Does the Quidditch team have to call you Lady McLeoch, now?" Scorpius asked before yelping in pain when she punched his arm.

"The Lady sure is aggressive," Albus joked.

"I will bench you for the rest of the season," she grumbled with no real animosity behind the empty threat.

James hadn't said anything since she had joined them. Their eyes met, and she smiled as she saw awe, some pride, and appreciation in his gaze. He smiled back and they looked at each other in silence for a few seconds before Kenzie cleared her throat.

"So, who wants to start drinking? I think your family already started!" She suggested, looking at Moire's relatives as some had already began to dance, many holding full glasses.

"Oh, I'll have to find Aunt Aoife, she's the most fun to drink with!" Moire agreed.

Looking around, however, she couldn't see any of her aunts enjoying the festivities. As she scoured the room, she saw all of them, with the exception of Aunt Bridget, gathered close to the big double door at the entrance of the Great Hall, whispering to each other in somber moods.

"Excuse me a second."

She made her way towards them and as she drew nearer, she could make out what they were arguing about.

"… go out there and tell her…," Cadha scolded, her brows furrowed.

"Alasdair said he had it under control and to not interfere," Nairne, who looked more worried than angry, cut her off.

"Screw Alasdair and his noble intentions," Aoife replied. "She is out of line. This is her own niece she is badmouthing!"

"I agree with Aoife," Greer said, shaking her head. "She has put it in her head that…"

"What's going on?" Moire asked.

The six women all turned around, looking sheepish as they realized her presence.

"Don't worry, dear. Your father has all of it under control," Lainie replied.

"The hell he does," Gavina mumbled.

But she was too close to the hallway and could hear the argument going on from where she was standing.

"… it was Da's wish that…"

"Da is not Laird anymore, I am. And as such, it is _my _duty to choose who will be replacing me."

"You're being unreasonable, Alasdair! My son is the next male heir!"

"And my daughter has the name of McLeoch. Da's insinuations that Fergus would be heir is none of my concern. Not after he left the clan to me, and with it the responsibility of choosing who should take over."

"Your daughter is unfit!"

"Do not speak of my daughter, Bridget!" Her father boomed, an edge of warning in his words.

"Do you pretend not to see her galivanting openly with that boy?"

At the mention of James, Moire's mouth dried up. Fists balling up, she sped past her aunts and out in the corridor, the edge of her vision red with anger. She vaguely heard her aunts calling her name behind her as they followed behind her.

"It isn't proper behavior for a young woman of our standing, let alone the one you are thinking of leaving this clan to, to behave like a…"

"Like a what, Aunt Bridget?" She asked loudly, her anger palpable. She heard one of the mirrors in the corridor crack.

Bridget's mouth slacked open at her apparition. Just when Moire thought she felt ashamed for being caught, her aunt's usual proud expression returned to her face.

"Sorry, Alasdair," Greer sighed behind her. "She heard, and we couldn't stop her."

"Don't interrupt an adult conversation, young lady," she chastised, as her father rubbed his brow.

"How am I not to interrupt when I am the one being talked about? For someone so uptight, I thought you would be aware that it is improper to speak ill of someone behind their backs."

"You are the last person to lecture about anyone being improper! Do you believe the portraits do not talk? Do you think it is appropriate for you to run around this castle ad drag our good name while you hide in broom closets with this… with this… this Sassenach?"

The mirror cracked further before shards fell on the ground. The noise of the festivities seemed so far away, and the silence that fell on the hallway drew a chill in the air. Moire's father's eyes were thunderous, but Bridget's attention was directed at Moire.

"Do not speak of James, or any of my friends again," she spoke calmly, mustering every ounce of venom she had in her. "What I do with my spare time is no one's concern but my own, especially not the portraits. Most of them are dead. Their opinion does not matter anymore. What matters is that you and your family swore loyalty to us, to _me_. I am the future Lady of this clan, and that is not going to change. If you, or Fergus, are not happy with this arrangement, you are free to leave the alliance and start your own. Otherwise, get used to pledging your allegiance to me, because I have no intention of stepping aside."

Moire turned around, only realizing then that her other aunts were still behind her. Gavina gave her a small nod in support. Before she walked back into the Great Hall, Moire turned around one last time.

"You know, it could have been you. You could have been Lady of the clan today, had Grandfather not been so close minded. But he was, and he had eight children just so he could produce a male heir when you could have been chosen just like I was today. That is truly unfortunate that he made you believe you were lesser than a son would be, but that does not allow you to blame me because my father treated me like you wish yours did."

She heard Nairne gasp in disbelief and Greer let out a shocked laugh as she made her way back into the Hall, almost walking straight into James. He caught her as she stumbled.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried frown,

"I'm fine, I didn't bump into you that hard…"

"That's not what I meant."

Of course, it wasn't. She sighed.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to ask if you're alright."

He was looking at her like she was going to burst into tears any time now, and she hated that.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to hex you," she warned, an eyebrow raised. "I'm fine, James. I don't think I've ever felt better actually. This was… therapeutic almost."

There was a small silence before he sighed and nodded.

"Let's drink something," James suggested.

"And then dance a bit, maybe? I'll teach you how to dance a reel."

Why did she sound so eager? James didn't seem to notice. He smiled softly and agreed. The two of them headed to the drinks table, where Moire downed two glasses to settle the leftover adrenaline from calling out her aunt, before they joined the reel circles. They danced a few with their friends, before Moire was whisked away to dance with her parents, and then with her aunts. Bridget was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the night, and neither was Fergus, who had left early on, his face so red he looked like he would explode at any time. Closer to midnight, slower and more romantic dances replaced the lively and cheerful ones. A hand closed on Moire's.

"Dance with me?" James whispered in her ear.

Interlocking their fingers, she led him to the dancefloor. And as he held her a little too close to keep up their strictly-friends façade, not that anyone noticed drunk and happy as they were, and looked deep into her eyes, making her feel like everyone else around them had disappeared, she realized she was fucked.

Moire Bonnie McLeoch was falling for James Sirius Potter. And she was quite at peace with it.

* * *

_I apologize for the very long delay in releasing this chapter. My computer was out of order for quite some time, but to makeup for it, I made this chapter extra long. We're nearing the end of this fanfic, which makes me a little sad, so I will enjoy writing the last of it as much as I can!_

_Please let me know what you all think of this one in the reviews and I will see you in the next chapter, which will hopefully take a lot less time than this one did. The whole loyalty pledging was heavily inspired by Outlander._

_Enjoy!_


	12. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

Aunt Bridget's outburst aside, the Cèilidh had been just as amazing as it was every year. Of course, Moire's mother, who usually had a soft and gentle disposition, had to be restrained from barging into Bridget's quarters and hexing her into next week, and could be seen sporting a frown whenever she was deep in thought, but there were no further incidents. Aunt Aoife had drunk everyone under the table, Moire had spent the better part of the night dancing with James, toasts were made, and just as the clock struck midnight, glasses were raised, and kisses were exchanged. Moire and James hid behind a large pillar for the New Year's kiss, out of sight.

"Where's my daughter?" She had heard her father ask, a slight slurring in his words, interrupting their kiss.

She had discreetly rejoined the crowd and made her way to her family, where her father led a toast in her honor, the crowd broke into a somewhat offkey rendition of Auld Lang Syne complete with Callum's skillful bagpiping and whatever the hell Ewan was doing with his bagpipe, before Moire and her cousins made their way to the barn to finish the night. Moire had looked around at them, the crown of braids on her hair undone, her hair cascading in waves down her back, and a new sense of pride took over her as she pictured them all at the Cèilidh years from now.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered in James' ear, and they left as half of the people in the barn were passed out, either from exhaustion or drunkenness, and the other half not too far form it.

Unlike the first night they returned to her room, they hadn't been giggling. The air had been charged with the same electricity than in the laundry room at the Burrow, and they had looked for any excuse for physical touch while on their way back to Moire's room, whether it had been a feather light touch around a waist, or a hand caressing an arm. By the time they had gotten behind closed doors, they had practically rushed to rip their clothes off, which hadn't been easy, given the kilts. And as they fell back in bed a few hours later, Moire's heart beating so fast she was certain James could hear it from where he was laying next to her. He had reached out and pulled her close to him, and as she had laid with her head on his chest, a giddy feeling she had wondered if maybe he felt the same as her. Of course, she wasn't a second year anymore, so she had forced the feeling down.

The Potters and the Weasleys had spent the first two days of January at the Manor before they left early in the morning on the third, two days before they were all supposed to head to Hogwarts, while McKenzie stayed at the Manor until the day of. Moire had felt jittery with nerves the morning they would apparate to Kings Cross station. It was quite dumb of her to, after all why would things change between her and James? Of course, they'd probably continue sneaking around at the castle until Salazar knew when. She kept an eye out as they entered the station but could not see the Potters or the Weasleys, which was quite a feat considering the big group of gingers and the occasional messy black hair was not hard to spot usually. Defeated, she embraced her parents before heading to the train along with Kenzie.

"Do you realize this is the last time we'll be doing this?" Kenzie asked, her voice tainted with sadness and a smidge of nostalgia.

Only then did it fully hit Moire that the next time she would be on this train would be on her last trip back home. In silence, the two girls looked around the train, memorizing every detail of it.

"Hey, remember when I walked into your compartment in first year?" Moire asked with a sad smile as they went in search of their friends.

"Yeah, you were mad at your cousins and tried to find an empty spot. And then Thompson walked in and tried to make us give up the compartment so her and her friends could sit," Kenzie laughed. "I thought you were going to rip her hair out."

"How did this bitch end up in Gryffindor, she never fights her battles alone."

"Well, she does have big bollocks trying your nerves every day."

"Moire! McKenzie! We're in here!" They heard Emma call.

They were ushered into the compartment and all hugged each other, catching up on their holidays. Emma's fair skin looked a bit sunburnt, but overall a couple of shades tanner from her vacation in Mexico, which made her blue eyes pop out. Erin's dark hair seemed shorter now, something they all gushed about. As for Leah, she was holding Kenzie's fluffy white cat, Peaches, that she had volunteered to look after while she was at the Manor. They caught up enthusiastically, only stopping to buy sweets when the trolley witch came by their compartment. Halfway through the trip, the compartment door opened, and James poked his head in.

"Hi, Potter," Kenzie smirked.

He greeted them politely before facing Moire, a box in his hands.

"Mum sent this. She, and I quote, thanks you for having us troublemakers at the Manor, and she says the family enjoyed having you around."

"Tell her I said thank you and that you were all perfect guests," Moire smiled, butterflies in her chest.

"I did, and for some reason, she doesn't believe me. But she sends this," he said as he handed her the box.

"Is that…?"

"Mum's fudge? Yes. There also should be a jar of Gran's persimmons jam in there, since you seemed to like it so much."

"Thanks, James."

Cue Emma choking on a pumpkin pasty. James smiled sheepishly, ran a hand through his hair, and then left.

"Since when is Potter _James_," Leah exclaimed, throwing her arms up, scaring Peaches who jumped from the seat and into Moire's lap.

"Since I was in a house where calling the name Potter would result in five people turning around," she lied smoothly, scratching Peaches behind her ears.

"Hmm. Nothing to do with the sex dreams then?" Erin asked tactfully, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing at all."

They dropped the subject, as her nose seemed to not have betrayed her for once. After they put on their uniforms, Emma and Leah fell asleep, Kenzie and Erin played a quiet game of chess, and Moire was reading the rare potions book Bill and Fleur had gotten her for Christmas while absentmindedly petting the cat purring on her lap.

_oOo_

The following couple of weeks had been mayhem. Professors doubled the workload of OWL and NEWT level students, and unfortunately for Moire, it meant extra work in potions for both. She thought Lupin would be a little less of a hard ass while he still had his newlywed glow, but she had been wrong. Classes aside, any time she wasn't spending on homework and studying was used for Quidditch practice, with the game against Ravenclaw scheduled for the third week of February.

As she laid in bed on the Friday of the end of the second week back at Hogwarts, she realized something quite strange. She could not remember the last time she had spent any time with James. Of course, it would be a lot harder to sneak around the castle considering the number of students always roaming the corridors and the gossiping portraits and ghosts who had nothing else to do with their time but help fuel the rumor mill. But she still had expected to hang out the way they had before their friendship had transpired into whatever mess it had become. As Kenzie was mumbling in her sleep, her hands clutched around a letter written in what seemed to be Callum's handwriting, something she really tried to ignore, and Leah snored lightly, Moire tried to dig in her memory.

She hadn't seen James much, yes, but he had seemed busy. Every time she had asked to spend time together, he seemed to be busy with something or the other. Just the Friday before, she had suggested they go flying to relieve stress after classes but he had told her that Gryffindor practiced at that time and that he'd promised his friends to work together on the mountain of homework Lupin had assigned for Defense Against the Dark Arts. She hadn't thought of it much, but now that she recalled, it seemed like he was trying to avoid her. She sat up in her bed, curtains drawn, and frowned. Yes, he did seem in a hurry, but he probably was under just as much stress as she was. She forced her shoulders to relax but couldn't do much for the knot in her stomach. She was probably imagining all of it, but years having to build walls around herself came back in full force and she felt herself pull away.

The next morning, however, she slept well past her usual wake up time. At nine in the morning, she opened her eyes, confused as to where she was, before she realized that she had slept for a lot longer than usual. Taking a quick shower during which she thanked every Founder that it was Saturday and she had nothing to do until practice that evening, she dressed warmly and left for the Great Hall, her roommates just starting to stir. Lily waved her over as soon as she walked in. It was still early by weekend standards, so there weren't many people there yet, though it was certainly a bit more populated than when she showed up at six thirty in the morning.

The younger Gryffindor was sitting with Rose and with the Scamander twins. All of them greeted her as she sat down and poured herself a cup of tea.

"You're up late," Rose noticed.

"I don't know what happened," the Scot replied after taking a sip. "Maybe I've just been tired, with helping out Professor Khan while studying for NEWTs and coming up with plays for Quidditch, I'm definitely overworked."

"What NEWTs are you taking at the end of the year," Lily asked, handing her a slice of buttered toast, which Moire thanked her for.

"Well, I'm going for a career in Potions, so definitely that, Herbology, Charms and Runes might be needed too, Transfiguration is always good, and Defense Against the Dark Arts because I liked the class. I was supposed to do Alchemy as well, but unfortunately that is only taught if there are enough students interested in the subject. But aside from that, I have no problem with any of those courses, aside from Transfiguration. I'm average at it, but I'll definitely have to study a lot more…"

"You could always ask James," Lily suggested. "He's quite good at it."

Moire mumbled into her cup. Of course, he was.

"I actually haven't seen much of him lately. We've both been busy, it seems. Speaking of, how was practice last night, boys?" She asked the twins.

Lorcan and Lysander looked at each other, perplexed, before looking back at her.

"We don't have practice on Fridays," Lorcan said.

"That's strange, James said he had to go for practice last Friday… Maybe I heard him wrong."

She distractedly chewed on her toast, her mind going back to the conversation she'd had with James the week prior. Could it be that James said he was going somewhere else? Or maybe…

It clicked in her mind. He had lied to her. He was avoiding her.

"Moire, go easy on the toast," Rose warned, a bit frightfully.

The half-eaten slice of toast in her hands had been crushed in her fist.

_oOo_

If there was usually one word to describe the general population of Hogwarts, it was tactless. Everyone was always in each other's business and in doing so, feelings were ignored, and the student body showed its denseness by its inability to read the room. Except this once. Hogwarts, in its entirety, could tell that Moire McLeoch was pissed.

It wasn't hard, actually. First, it had been quite obvious at Slytherin practice on the Saturday of the second week of classes. It had been snowing, the pit had been muddy, and she had been ruthless. Halfway through the practice, Albus Potter had asked if they could take a short break. Rumors had it she completely chewed him up and spat him out in front of the whole team.

"A break, Potter? You want a break? Tell me, have you managed to stop McLaughlin, Burke, or Jenkins from getting a hold of the Quaffle? Better yet, have you distracted Buchanan from the Golden Snitch? Because she's caught it twice in the past hour and you're slacking off. So, Potter, what makes you think you deserve a break?"

According to the stories, she had also turned to the rest of the team, her glare colder than the snow falling on them.

"Breaks don't win you games. So, the next one of you who wants a _break_ might as well quit the fucking team and let me know now. I have plenty of players who would be thrilled to take over for you."

From there, with some help from the gossips of Hogwarts, it had been quite clear to the castle that everyone's deepest fear had come true: Moire McLeoch, who was mildly scary and no-bullshit on a regular day, was furious. Something had pissed her off, and whatever that was made the castle walk on eggshells. The only times she didn't seem like she wanted to find a way to shoot a killing curse using her eyes only was when she was helping out Professor Khan in her classes or when she was spending time with Lily Potter.

Of course, there were a couple of stupid Gryffindors who had a death wish. One day, as she was walking down the corridor on her way to her next class, a group of sixth years had been blocking the way. While almost everyone had parted like the red sea when she had barked at them to move, two had asked her, snickering, if it was "her time of the month". The entire corridor had frozen up in a deafening silence, and in a split second, bats flew out in a continuous stream from both their noses and the boys screams filled the previously silent hallway. She had scoffed and made her way to her class.

Olivia Thompson, who the rest of Hogwarts associated as Moire's least favorite person in the castle, had of course taken advantage of the situation, which had resulted in what almost rivaled the Great Potter-McLeoch Screaming Match of 2017. Speaking of which, the Hogwarts residents could not help but notice the absence of one James Sirius Potter, who had ironically become one of Moire's closest mates, as they could be seen before the winter holiday coming back from flying around the Quidditch pitch late at night, skirting the line of curfew. The two, who had seemed to spend quite a lot of time together, were now back to pre-seventh year James and Moire, who could not be seen in the same room outside of class. If rumors were to be believed, the two had spent Christmas and New Year with each other, some stories saying she had been to his house, while others insisted he was at hers instead. But all agreed on one thing: something had most likely happened during the holidays that had somehow snowballed into all of Hogwarts constantly looking behind their shoulders.

_oOo_

"Spill," Leah demanded as Emma, Erin, and herself surrounded Kenzie.

They had dragged their mate into the Room of Requirements, which had been made to turn into a cozy looking classroom and had forced her to sit on a chair as they all encircled her.

"I don't think you understand, she will slit my throat in half," the brunette refused.

"McKenzie, you were at the Manor, we know you know what happened," Erin insisted, arms crossed. She pulled a nearby chair and sat down, still staring Kenzie straight in the eyes. "Did they have a fight? Because I speak for all of us when I say that we noticed they haven't spent a single second together since he came to give her the fudge on the train."

"They seemed quite fine when he left the Manor, that's for sure," Kenzie muttered.

"Look, as much as I love Moire, I can't live with her when she's in this type of mood. It feels like our dormitory is colder than the Arctic, I can't take it!" Emma exclaimed, throwing her arms up.

After more pleading, a few threats, and some tears, Kenzie caved.

"Fine! But Moire can never find out I told you guys any of this or I will die! And if I do, trust me, I am taking all of you down with me! You specifically Emma, keep your mouth shut and for Salazar's sake, keep your shit together when I tell you!"

After promises that they would keep it to themselves, Kenzie said a silent prayer to Merlin that none of this would ever reach Moire's ears.

"They shagged."

"I beg your pardon?" Erin asked after a heavy silence.

"You heard me. After the whole will they, won't they, which apparently got worse at the Burrow from what I got out of her, I saw them sneaking into her room, holding hands and giggling, the first night at the Manor. I guess her cousins and Potter's family didn't realize, but Founders, if you knew what was going on, it was hard to ignore it. One of them would just conveniently appear out of nowhere, and the other would join us a few minutes later, and there was usually something out of place, like a shirt not correctly buttoned or messy hair. It also helps that most of us were drunk most of the time, which by the way, Moire's family drinks like…"

"Kenzie, don't get distracted," Leah warned.

"Right. Sorry. But yeah, they could barely keep their hands off each other. Hell, remember her aunt Gavina?"

There was a collective shudder, as well as red cheeks from Emma and Leah, which Gavina had asked if they were an item yet every time she saw them, followed by nods.

"I gather that's a yes. Well, Gavina found out as soon as she saw the two of them interact. I don't know what happened after, because she was in a very good mood the entire break, clearly, and until last week, everything was alright!" Kenzie concluded.

"So, I was right!" Emma exclaimed.

"Yes, you were, but you are going to keep your mouth shut!"

"Why wouldn't she tell us? We've heard about all her other fuckbuddies in excruciating detail," oh-so-level-headed Erin speculated. "Every time I see Andrew Davies, I have to remember he has a huge…"

"Yes, well that's because apparently, our dear friend has come to the realization that James Potter might not just be a friend with benefits," Kenzie interrupted her.

There was a pregnant pause as the three others looked at her like she had sprouted three heads and an extra arm. Emma shrieked, breaking the silence, and both her hands flew to her mouth.

"So, help me Merlin, if you tell me she's in love with Potter again, I am going to scream," Leah sighed.

"I knew this would happen," Emma screamed in a high-pitched voice. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! The second they started becoming mates, I knew all those old feelings would come running back!"

"Well, congratulations Emma, you were right. Just make sure you shut up about it in front of Moire, because she…"

"She'll kill you, we know," Leah, Erin, and Emma said in unison.

"Just reminding you in case you forgot," McKenzie mumbled.

"So, what do we do about this?" Emma asked, resulting in the other three glaring at her.

"_We_ do nothing," Leah answered. "I like being alive."

"Leah's right," Erin agreed.

"But we can't let her mope around!" Emma exclaimed, her blonde bun bobbing around as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Moire McLeoch does not _mope_, she apparently rages, and do we remember how quickly she hexed those Gryffindors a couple days ago?"

"She won't hex _us_!"

"No, Emma, she'll poison us. And then, she'll bury us in the Quidditch pitch and plant flowers over our dead bodies," Leah reasoned.

It took a lot of convincing to make Emma drop it. Unfortunately, Moire was not someone who was easily helped when she cocooned up, and they would have to wait for her walls to drop a bit before they attempted anything.

_oOo_

The Weasley-Potter family realized something was up as the rumors started to spread. Moire was curt and cold with everyone of them, except for Lily. After the famed practice where she had unleashed her fury on the team, Albus and Scorpius had run to the Gryffindor Common Room after showering, and as they walked in, both of them collapsed on the couch next to Molly, Dom, and Roxanne.

"You two look like you've been through hell!" Alice Longbottom exclaimed from her seat on the ground with Rose.

"I don't know why or how, but McLeoch is pissed," Albus, who was too tired to turn into a bumbling mess at the sight of the strawberry blonde Gryffindor, exclaimed.

"She was like a fucking harpy!" Scorpius added. "I think I'm going to be sore for the next month. I'm not making it to our game against Ravenclaw next month. We'll all die before."

"I'm sure you're imagining it," Rose said rationally.

That prompted both the boys to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You can't just _imagine_ Moire being mad," Scorpius explained. "It's obvious. If she's pissed about something, you'll know, because she's not passive aggressive."

"I don't think the word passive exists in her vocabulary. She is just downright aggressive. Remember the first game of the season, when she practically scored against Hufflepuff by hitting the Quaffle so hard it flew two thirds of the way through the field?" Albus reminded her. "That's what happens when she's mildly irritated. She almost kicked me off the team earlier because I said we should take a break!"

"Okay, maybe she's mad then," Roxy agreed.

"What do you think set her off?" Dominique asked.

"Not a clue. We came here because we thought James would know."

"He's in the library with Fred, August, Tom, and Declan," Molly informed, looking up from her book.

"He might not know," Rose said, frowning. "I don't think I've seen them hang out together since we got back. They've exchanged maybe ten words, from what I've seen."

"I swear, if James pissed her off somehow, I'm shaving his head in his sleep," Albus groaned.

"He can be an idiot at times," Roxy agreed.

Rose then attempted to schedule a spa night with Moire in the Prefects' bathroom the following night, to which the Slytherin captain had agreed to, but the conversation was curt and brisk, and Rose did not manage to get the reason of her anger out of her.

When asked, however, Lily denied any change in Moire's behavior. It seemed to the rest of her family that she was, as usual, blissfully unaware of the change in mood of her favorite person in the castle.

"How did she seem?" Albus, who had been hiding in the Gryffindor Common Room, asked later that week after Lily came back from studying potions with Moire in the library.

"What do you mean? She was fine, as usual," Lily replied, her eyes wide with questions.

"You haven't noticed how mad she is at everyone right now?" Her brother exclaimed.

"Why would Moire be mad?"

With a sigh, Albus had dropped the conversation. Of course, Lily hadn't noticed anything, and maybe it was for the best.

Roxanne had asked Fred as well when they snuck into the kitchens late at night for snacks at some point.

"Do you think James is behind it?" Roxy said.

"Who knows? They seemed to get along fine until we left the Manor. Hell, that prat kept ditching me to hang out with her most of the time. What could've changed?"

"I don't know. They haven't really hung out much since the start of the term. They were attached at the hip at the Burrow and the Manor, and now it's like we're back to them not getting along."

With that information in mind, Fred had asked James why he hadn't spent that much time with Moire since they had come back from the Burrow. The reply was inconclusive.

"What do you mean, he avoided the question?" Albus asked, eyebrow raised, as they had a little impromptu family meeting, sans James, or the younger two members of their family, who were already in bed snoring, in the kitchens.

"I mean he avoided the question. He literally looked at his wrist, which had no watch on it by the way, and said he had to run to meet Teddy."

"I don't understand, does that mean he's avoiding her on purpose?" Rose frowned.

"Do we think something happened?" Scorpius mused.

"It's not out of the question," Lucy nodded. "Did you see both of their faces after they kissed under the mistletoe?"

"They were also very close at the Manor. They danced together for half the night at the New Year's party, now that I think about it," Roxanne remembered.

"Same thing happened at the wedding," Molly agreed.

"Is James any different?" Scorpius asked.

"Well, he seems lost in his mind a lot," Fred answered. "The Scamander twins almost took his head off at practice because he wasn't paying attention. He's dropped the Quaffle a couple of times too. And when we're studying, he just stares at the same piece of parchment for a while before he shakes himself out of it."

"Maybe we're reading too much into this. Maybe they just had a fight. Either way, should we help them out?" Rose suggested after a long silence.

"If I want to die, maybe," Albus scoffed. "James created this mess, so he can sort it out himself. Hopefully before she feeds him to the Giant Squid."

"Or makes the giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest disembowel him."

"I feel bad," Roxy admitted.

"Look, Moire is still super mad. And from what her mates said, she's not going to listen to anyone until she's a bit less mad and can be reasonable. So, until she at least opens up to them, she's not going to react well to any of us trying to help out," Albus reasoned. "All we can do now is hope no one gets sent to the Hospital Wing…"

"Archie Smith and Elijah Taylor already were, courtesy of your mum's Bat Bogey hex that she taught Moire," Dominique reminded him. "As if she wasn't already scary before she learned that…"

"Well… no one _else_."

_oOo_

The student body was not alone in noticing the sudden change in dynamics around the castle. The Professors, who were surprisingly also gossips, were discussing the new shift in moods amongst the students when they should have been conferring about the curriculum and the upcoming exams.

"As long as no one is goofing around during my Gryffindor-Slytherin double class, I'll take it," Alicia Spinnet, who had taken over as Transfiguration Professor a few years back, shrugged. "They all seem so scared of saying the wrong thing that no one speaks aside from answering questions."

"She seemed fine this past holiday," Teddy said, frowning. "I wonder what changed. Zubeida, have you had a conversation with her yet?"

"She hasn't seemed so out of character in my classes," Professor Khan replied, shaking her head.

"Does it have anything to do with your brother, Teddy?" Professor Sinistra asked. "Merlin knows that every time Miss McLeoch is in a particularly bad mood, Mr. Potter is somehow behind it."

"He probably has something to do with the situation. He seemed quite… distracted at the wedding," Teddy agreed.

"Didn't they spend quite some time together that night?" Flitwick piped up.

"They looked awfully cozy sitting on a bench under her tartan, that's for certain," Minerva commented, not looking away from her paperwork but keeping a close ear on the conversation.

"Why do I have the feeling that this will end in another screaming match?" Professor Vector sighed.

All those who were present during the first conversation Moire and James had ever had during their third year shuddered at the reminder.

"That fiasco happened on my first month of teaching. I clearly remember telling myself that if that type of stuff happened every day, maybe I should just go back to my job as a Potions Researcher at the Ministry," Khan reminisced.

"Everyone always talks about that like it was the biggest fight to ever occur on Hogwarts grounds, I'm beginning to think it's being slightly exaggerated," Lupin, who had only been a Professor for the past two years and was not present at the fight, remarked. "I'm sure there was worse."

McGonagall put her papers down and took her glasses off, staring at him straight in the eyes.

"Teddy, I have been a professor for quite a while. I was there when your father and his friends were students, during all of James and Lily Potter's fights, as well as James and Severus dueling in the corridors. I was also present during an all-out brawl on the Quidditch pitch involving Harry Potter, Fred and George Weasley, and Draco Malfoy, and during years of outward hostility between Gryffindors and Slytherins, notably right after the war, when anti-Slytherin sentiments ran high, and I can assure you, to this day, no fight, argument, or row has ever topped the first time those two interacted."

"I think Moire kept changing between English and Gaelic towards the end," Neville remembered.

"Was that before or after their wands came out?" Alicia recalled.

"Alright, I get it, it was bad!"

"Exactly," Khan nodded solemnly. "And I have no idea why Neville and I thought it would be a good idea to have a meeting with both of them in the same room."

"Don't remind me, I had to repair my cardigan after trying to separate the two of them," Neville exclaimed in horror.

"Didn't they break two chairs and a potted plant?" Professor Babbling, who taught runes, enquired.

"And here I thought she fancied him her second year," Flitwick sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"She _what_?" Lupin laughed incredulously at the old wizard's statement.

"Oh, she absolutely did," Spinnet confirmed. "I thought she would burst into flames every time he was in the same room as her."

"I thought he did too. I mean, from his first year up until the big argument, he always looked at the back of her head and seemed to want to speak to her," Sinistra smiled fondly. "Poor child didn't know how to begin doing that. I'm pretty sure I saw him reach for her braid once before retracting his hand."

"Oh, thank god. Could you imagine how fast she would have ended his life had he pulled on her braid? I mean who is dumb enough to get a girl's attention by doing that?" Alicia exclaimed.

"Hey, leave the poor kid alone, he was eleven!" Teddy defended him with an amused smile on his lips.

"All I am saying is, I have a feeling this will end in a showdown again," Neville predicted.

"Should we bet on it?" Khan suggested with an evil smile. "Septima, you're the best with numbers, would you like to keep track?"

"Oh, I would love to," Vector replied.

"I say fifteen galleons they don't talk to each other for another couple of months before they both calm down," Neville suggested.

"Boring. I say fifteen galleons it ends in a fight during the Slytherin-Gryffindor game at the end of the Quidditch season," Spinnet countered.

"Ten that the stress of the NEWTs gets to them and there's a part two of the third-year debacle," Flitwick added.

"Minerva, would you like to bet?" Vector asked as she noted the previous wagers from her colleagues on a piece of parchment.

"Betting on students' lives is unprofessional and immoral for a Professor," McGonagall declared, her hands folded and her gaze severe. "Put me down for twenty that they both still fancy each other and that this whole thing gets resolved in the next couple of months."

_oOo_

"C'mon! We haven't had breakfast with everyone in a while!" Lily insisted, dragging Moire by the hand towards the Great Hall on the first Sunday of February.

"I don't think it's such a good idea, dear," Moire tried to dissuade her.

The younger girl didn't seem to budge on her opinion. All Moire could do was sigh and follow. Of course, she could not say no to Lily even if she tried, and the Gryffindor knew that. In fact, it seemed like no matter how mad she got every time she thought of the way James had tried to avoid her and lied to her to get rid of her, her anger melted like snow in summer when his little sister was around.

Moire was quite aware of how her mood had affected the castle. Frankly, she couldn't care less. Besides, they were starting to feel slightly better since there was a Hogsmeade trip scheduled for the next Saturday, two days before Valentines' Day. She felt a little bad for her team, as they more often than not took the brunt of her rage, but ultimately, she noticed quite some improvement following her ruthless trainings. At least they would be more than ready to face Ravenclaw, which wasn't an issue to begin with considering Anthony Corner was an idiot of a Captain and came up with some of the worst strategies she had ever seen. It would still be nice to win in a landslide, however.

As they neared the Great Hall, Lily chattering in a cheerful tone the entire way, Moire felt a sense of dread bubble up in her chest. She was terrified to see James. Who knew what would happen if she did? She was still mad and hurt at the situation, and anger settled like tar in the pit of her stomach when she remembered seeing him chat with Thompson the night before in the library. She watched with great satisfaction as Madam Pince reprimanded the two of them severely, but it had not stopped her from snapping a total of three quills for each time she remembered Thompson twirling her hair as James talked. It didn't matter. He was probably not there, given it was a bit later than both of them usually woke up, so he most likely had already eaten breakfast. With a sigh of relief, she realized she was right when they took their seat at the Gryffindor table amongst the Weasley-Potter family. Albus and Scorpius, sitting on either side of Rose, froze up at the sight of her.

"Relax, I'm in somewhat of a good mood today," Moire lied for their sake.

"So, Moire…," Rose began, clearing her throat. "Excited for next week's trip?"

"I guess," she shrugged. "I'm running low on chocolate. And quills."

Definitely on those, yes.

"Moire, can I come to the apothecary with you? The stuff you explained to me last time was really interesting!" Lily asked hopefully, a large smile on her face.

"Of course, Lils," she agreed with a smile of her own.

Suddenly, the energy around her shifted as she saw everyone around her tense up. Before she could ask why, she heard a voice behind her speak up.

"Hi, guys! What are we talki– oh…"

She had turned around as soon as she had heard James' voice, dread, anger, and pain all rising to her throat again. Oh, she was going to be sick…

"Here we go," Fred mumbled.

"Hi, James!" Lily greeted, seemingly unaware.

"Ahem… Hi, Moire…"

He was standing there, awkwardly, as her cold, hard eyes stared him down. Not wishing to make a scene, she replied in as neutral of a voice as she could muster.

"Hi."

Then, she poured herself a cup of tea, slamming the teapot slightly harder than usual, as he sat down a couple of seats away from her. The conversation picked up again, though some people at the Gryffindor table, noticing the shift in mood, had started turning around. Lily's oblivious attitude and efforts from the rest of the Weasley-Potter family were enough to keep the conversation afloat, but not enough to completely drown the murderous vibes coming out of her. She contented herself with answering in one-word answers and sipping her tea slowly until there was none left in her cup.

"So, what is everyone's plan for next weekend?" Roxanne asked to lighten the mood.

As her family answered, James, with a determined look in his eyes, had turned his head to try and make eye contact with Moire before he spoke up:

"Moire, could I talk to you after breakfast?"

"Oh, no," Albus whimpered before the silence fell on their side of the table again.

Gradually, it took over the entire Gryffindor table. They didn't know what was happening, but something was occurring, and it had to do with Moire and James.

"You want," she reiterated, dangerously calm, "to talk to me. After breakfast?"

"Yes," he replied, holding her gaze.

Then, quicker than lightening, Moire slammed her teacup on the table, resulting in the entire Hall stopping their conversations and turning around.

"Oh, wow. I didn't remember your balls being the size of a fucking Quaffle last time I saw them. Well, thank Merlin you haven't lost your tongue, Potter, you can _speak_," she spat, almost venomously. "Could've fooled me, I thought you lost the ability to do that when I was concerned."

"Moire, I—"

"Glad you could finally pencil me into your busy schedule. Let me guess, you moved around your imaginary Quidditch practice on Friday? The one you told me you had, but didn't?"

He had the decency to look ashamed.

"I didn't mean to lie to you, I just –"

"You just what, Potter?" She exclaimed. "I'm not a child, if you don't want to spend time together, say so. But don't actively come up with lies and try to avoid me. Really, what was going through your fucking pea-sized brain?"

"If you could let me speak, I could explain to you what went through it," he replied, also starting to get angry.

Blood was pumping in her ears and her hands itched to grab the wand that she had stuck in her bun. She stood up abruptly, the dishware on the table rattling. She could vaguely make out Professors Longbottom and Khan walking towards them gingerly.

"You've got some fucking nerve, Potter. If you can't handle what happened without making it awkward, keep it in your pants!"

"For fuck's sake, McLeoch, would you let me speak?" He yelled back, also standing up.

"I have nothing to fucking say to you, Potter. I can't believe I thought we would ever be friends. Merlin, I can't believe I ever fucked you."

She realized her mistake the second the words left her mouth. Exclamations echoed around the Great Hall, and she could make out Thompson's shrill voice screaming "What did she just say?" a couple of times, which brought a pinch of satisfaction to Moire, but not enough to melt away her anger this time.

"I was stupid in second year and I am even dumber now for thinking I fancied you," she finished, immediately silencing the Hall, her voice calm but frozen.

"You… you what?" He asked, all the irritation leaving his voice, and looking like he had just gotten hit in the face with a brick.

"Oh, fuck you, Potter. I knew this was a bad idea."

She turned around, making her way down the Great Hall and towards the door. She had made a few steps when he spoke up again.

"Bergamot!" He shouted after her, with a hint of desperation in his words. Like he would lose her if he didn't.

She stopped and turned around to face him. He was now standing in the path between the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff tables, shoulders tense, but a vulnerable air on his face that she had never seen before. It made her want to run to him and hold his hand, even if he was supposed to be the brave Gryffindor. She balled up her fists and frowned instead.

"What?"

"Honeydukes, the air when I'm high up on my broom," he recited, almost pleading. "And… bergamot."

She was now acutely aware of everyone in the room staring at them. Her brain was still foggy from their fight and she didn't piece the puzzle together until she saw Professor Khan's eyes widen and heard Rose's gasp. Then, it all made sense.

"I never realized why, for all of first and second year, all I wanted to do was get your attention," he continued, taking a step further towards her. "And how mad I was that I was stupid enough to blow it in third year when I finally got the chance to talk to you for the first time. I didn't know what any of it was, just that I could never take my eyes off of you. And then, I smelled your fucking perfume in Amortentia last year and I realized that I have been in love with you since I was eleven years old and that I was stupid for not realizing it. And that… scared the crap out of me."

By now, the student body was enthralled, and no one dared speak out loud, most of the conversations about the scene being played in front of them held in whispers. Moire felt like her ears were going to burst in flames.

"So, I shoved everything away, because fuck, how could I be in love with someone who hated my guts. And then, this past holiday happened, and everything came back so fast. I thought you didn't want it to be anything serious, but I couldn't help it anymore. Not after everything. And so, I asked Mum to make fudge and Gran if there was any jam left because I knew you loved it. I wrote a note for you telling you to meet me at the Quidditch Pitch before curfew and I put it in the box, but when you never showed up and didn't even mention it, I thought you were trying to let me down gently."

The fudge… the fucking fudge!

"So, I avoided you, but with Valentines' Day and the Hogsmeade trip, I just wanted to try again one last time. But did you just say you fan…"

"I didn't open the box," she finally piped up, her voice barely above a murmur. It sounded much louder in the silence.

"You… what?" James asked, blinking several times as the information reached his brain.

"I never opened the box," she repeated louder. "I put it in my trunk when I got to the castle, and then with the extra homework, and practice, and everything, I forgot about it… I didn't reject you, I just…"

"Never saw the note," he finished for her.

"These idiots," Rose mumbled, prompting half the Gryffindor table to shush her.

"Does this mean… does this mean the fudge probably went bad?" Moire mused out loud. A shocked laugh echoed through the room, accompanied with a couple of facepalms.

"I'm sorry, what?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The jam is probably fine, but not the fudge, right?"

She was speaking absolute nonsense. She was aware of it. But her heart was racing, along with her thoughts, and she could not make her mouth stop. Moire didn't even realize that James had started walking towards her.

"I mean, it's been about a month. At this point, the jam might've also gone bad. I mean, does fudge even go bad? Does anyone know if fu–"

She was interrupted as James cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her in front of the entirety of the Great Hall. Moire's mind went blank, only barely registering the cheers, wolf whistles, and chanting. Her brain was focused on one thing only. James broke their kiss, putting his forehead against hers. The room quieted again.

"You're impossible, you know that? I declare my undying love, and you're talking about jam."

"The jam is fine. I'm worried about the fudge," she dumbly replied.

"Moire…," he sighed.

"The Highland moors, the apothecary, and you," she recited, looking directly into his eyes. "Gosh, Potter, so demanding. Besides, what the hell smells like pine and citrus? Your shampoo?"

"My cologne," he chuckled.

"Whatever. Dumbass."

"So… does that mean you'll go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

"Considering the fact that we're making a complete spectacle out of ourselves, I'm assuming that's a given."

Only then did James break their embrace, keeping hold of her hand in his. They sat down again at the Gryffindor table.

"So… does that mean our work here is done?" Professor Khan asked with a small smile.

"Sorry about that," she apologized with a sheepish expression.

"Meh, don't worry. We're comparing any incident involving you two to the one in third year, so the bar is low," Neville shrugged before both returned to the table.

"Did the professors just give McGonagall money?" James whispered in her ear.

"I don't want to think about it," she laughed.

"So… how long were the two of you shagging?" Fred asked, arms crossed.

"First night at the barn," Moire replied, trying to not get distracted as James drew circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

"I'm going to be sick," Albus complained.

"Better throw up from this than from running too many laps in the snow," the Slytherin captain replied with a mocking smile.

"Does that mean you won't kill us at practice anymore?" Scorpius pleaded. "Or terrorize the school?"

Moire looked at James with a gentle smile.

"Luckily for you, no," she replied.

"All I'm going to say is I'm glad I took Lily up on having breakfast with everyone," James declared.

Moire raised an eyebrow.

"Wait. Lily dragged _me_ here today."

Everyone turned to the young Gryffindor, who was smiling satisfyingly.

"You knew?" Moire exclaimed.

"I've known since the beginning! You two were very obvious. To someone who wasn't drunk that night, it wasn't too hard to see that you snuck out together. And you all thought I was oblivious! Ha!"

"You're unbelievable," Rose declared, shaking her head.

"And you're all welcome!" The youngest Potter replied.

_oOo_

The castle had buzzed for the next couple of weeks after that. Everyone shared their rendition of what they had seen them do at Hogsmeade. Ella Goldstein said she had seen them at the apothecary with Lily Potter. There were contradicting stories about where they had lunch: Gordon Smith swore they sat two tables away from him at the Three Broomstick, sharing butterbeers, while Eunice Leung had seen them enter Vic's Café as she had left it. From then, none of the stories were even remotely similar. Some said they walked around the village for a while, while others insisted that they snogged behind the Hog's Head Inn. Quite a few people also claimed they saw them sneaking around at Tomes and Scrolls, the bookstore, and a few romantic souls swore up and down James serenaded Moire using either a piano or a guitar, depending on who you asked, at Dominic Maestro's Music Shop. Rumors coming from both of their jealous suitors said they were arguing in an alley and both went their separate ways. The more scandalous stories even suggested they ventured into the Shrieking Shack for some alone time, Moire and James both being fearless enough to defy the most haunted building in the United Kingdom. None of the stories made sense together and all defied the others in continuity, but all agreed on one thing: right before heading back to the castle, the sky already dark as the sun had set quite early, both had come out of Honeydukes carrying a mountain of chocolate and holding hands as they walked back to the castle.

"Really, you would think they'd mind their own business," Moire commented as she sat on the ground by the fire of the Slytherin Common room, her back against James' chest, both of them drinking hot chocolate they had snuck from the kitchen on their way back.

"Could you not do this here?" Albus complained as he plopped himself on the comfortable leather couch against which James was leaning.

"Mind your business, Albus," James sighed.

"What a buzzkill," Emma complained, perched on an armchair, as she read her copy of the Daily Prophet.

"We could always run to the Room of Requirement, but you'd have to live with watching us leave knowing exactly what we'd be doing there with no one watching," Moire pointed out.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Albus hurriedly exclaimed.

"Actually, the Room of Requirements sounds like a great idea, let's go there now," James declared.

"Keep it in your pants, Potter, I can't tire myself out tonight, we have practice early tomorrow morning since I cancelled today's," she responded not without an amused smirk on her lips.

"Being tired at one practice won't kill you," he whined.

"We have a game next week," Moire reminded him.

"Corner is an absolute idiot, if you won against Hufflepuff you have nothing to worry about," James scoffed.

"Oh, I know that. We still have to win by a landslide, though. That way when we face off against you guys at the end of the year, it'll be an even better win with the points advance," Moire cheerfully said, turning around and plopping a kiss on his lips.

"Get a room," Albus exclaimed.

_oOo_

As predicted by pretty much everybody, Slytherin had beat Ravenclaw by quite a lot, even despite the horrible flying conditions. It had been a crushing defeat, and the Ravenclaw Captain, Anthony Corner, was out of sight for about a week. James had been quite a vocal supporter in the stands, dressed from head to toe in Slytherin colors, jumping up every time Moire blocked a goal.

"That's my girlfriend!" He'd yell, loud enough to be heard across the stands.

Moire would smile from where she flying, and either wink or send a kiss. They had celebrated quite extensively in the Slytherin Common Room before the two lovebirds had ran to the Room of Requirements, giggling under the Invisibility cape, as they made their way to the seventh floor.

"You called me your girlfriend earlier," she had noted later, as they both laid naked on the carpet across from the fire. "I didn't realize it was official yet."

"Moire, I told you in front of the entire school that I've been in love with you since we were eleven, and that I smelled your perfume in Amortentia. We're official. Unless…," he seemed to deflate upon the possibility that she didn't feel the same as him.

"Relax, Potter. I want it too. Just had to make sure it wasn't a slip of the tongue."

"I did say it every time you blocked a Quaffle. Trust me, love, it wasn't."

Two weeks later, she had returned the favor, decked in Gryffindor colors to cheer him on when Gryffindor played against Hufflepuff. It was such a strange sight for Hogwarts to see two Captains of opposing teams, especially two from historically rival houses, encourage the other at games. Gryffindor had won by a landslide, closing the gap between Gryffindor and Slytherin. There were only thirty points between the two, with Gryffindor taking the lead, and at that point, either team could easily win the Quidditch Cup.

As the month of March neared its end and their NEWTs approached, they tried to keep seeing each other as often but it was definitely not quite possible as their schedules got busier. Still, they managed to study together quite often, with James helping Moire in Transfiguration as she offered her knowledge in Potions. One night, after sneaking into the Room of Requirements, which had become their spot when they needed to spend time away from their roommates and families, James had piped up:

"I got an offer…"

Moire turned around to look at him.

"Not from another girl, I hope," she joked.

"An agent from the Montrose Magpies met with me yesterday after dinner in McGonagall's office."

That definitely made her sit up.

"You're being drafted into the Magpies?" She exclaimed.

"The reserves at first. But hopefully, I can be a starter in a couple of years."

"You never told me you wanted to play professional Quidditch."

"Because I didn't think I'd get any offers to," he replied, shaking his head. "I wanted to get enough NEWTs to be an Auror in the very likely case I didn't, but I did…"

"How do you feel about it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It feels… it feels unreal."

"You should know… the Magpies are my family's favorite team."

There was a short silence, but slowly, a big smile graced his features. Moire felt a bubble of joy build up in her chest and yelped as he pulled her against himself with a laugh.

"You're going to play professional Quidditch!" She cheered.

"Can you not tell anyone about this? You're the first person I told."

The bubble erupted into butterflied as she anchored her eyes deep in his. He had not told his parents or his siblings yet. Not even his best mates. He had told her.

"I love you," she finally said.

She saw his eyes widen and after a few seconds spent in complete silence he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently.

"This is the first time you say it," he said after he broke their kiss.

He wasn't wrong. She'd felt it, and he knew that. After all, she had smelled him in Amortentia. But Moire expressed her love in other ways than by saying it. She had felt the need to say it out loud this time, and the strange feeling to want to say it again came over her. Instead, she kissed him.

_oOo_

April came and went faster than they could blink. The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game had been played during the last week of the month, and unsurprisingly, Ravenclaw had lost. Then, just like that, the rain and wind made way to sunny blue skies and gentle breezes as May parted the clouds for sun to poke through and warm the Hogwarts grounds. The main event of the season came during the second week of May, as the student body vibrated with excitement the day of the last game of the year, with Hogwarts' most interesting couple facing off in the game that would decide whether Slytherin or Gryffindor would take the cup that year.

James walked in with Fred, scarlet uniform on, broom in hand. For once, he wasn't one of the only people down in the Great Hall. The room was packed, buzzing with anticipation and giving a much-needed break from the stress of exams, mainly OWLs and NEWTs. The rest of his team spotted them, letting out boisterous cheers, which was followed by the entire Gryffindor table. Looking over at the Slytherin table, he realized Moire hadn't arrived yet, but Albus and Scorpius were making funny faces at him from across the room. He ignored them and made his way to the red table.

"How's everyone feeling?" He asked cheerfully.

The twins had their heads in the cloud, unsurprisingly. Declan Thomas-Finnigan was busy shoving eggs into his mouth and he barely made out the "good" that he let out. Colin Creevey II looked green, which was a common occurrence before any game but for some reason looked a lot more pronounced that day. Tom Wood, very much as obsessed with Quidditch as his father, was busy poring over their strategies, muttering to himself as if almost in a trance. As for Fred, he had just shrugged as he sat down.

"How are _you_ feeling?" Rose returned.

"Not too bad. I see you have both team colors on."

She was wearing a red and gold jumper, as well as a Slytherin hat. James knew by now who the hat most likely belonged to. They all did, aside maybe for Uncle Ron. And Albus. What an idiot. Rose had the decency to blush but didn't say much past that. He was about to tease her when the Slytherin table erupted, rivaling the Gryffindors' enthusiasm.

"Looks like Moire's here!" Lily exclaimed.

She was right. Moire walked in, decked in uniform, her broom looking polished and shiny in the light, and a smirk on her face. James loved seeing her in her Quidditch uniform. The fabric clung onto her but then again, Moire McLeoch could look good in a potato sack as far as he was concerned. Her hair was braided and crowned around her head, promising to stay in place the entirety of the game. She walked towards him and the Hall quieted to hear their conversation.

"Good morning," he greeted with a loving smile.

"I'm going to destroy you," she replied, her face deadly serious.

She may have been teasing him, based on the little amused glint in her eyes, but there were no doubts in his mind that she was absolutely not joking, and she would probably only stop short of sending him to the hospital. He burst into laughter.

"I love you," he simply said, and she smiled in return, tiptoeing to kiss him, before she greeted his family and went to her table.

Breakfast seemed to go on forever but ultimately, everyone stood up to head to the Pitch. James had taken one last glance at the sky of the Great Hall, which displayed a blue sky with a few thin clouds. It seemed to be warmer that day, with minimal wind. Perfect flying conditions. Sooner than later, he was standing in front of Moire as Madam Hooch went over the rules. His girlfriend was positively staring him down, and while he loved her to death, James was still slightly scared of her. Healthy fear, she called it. Why did it always have to be terrifying redheads when any Potter man was involved? He vaguely heard Madam Hooch asking for a fair game before she called for the Captains to shake hands. Moire almost broke his fingers in a terrifyingly strong grip. She was scary. God, he loved her.

"Mount your brooms!"

He did as he was told, both him and Moire kicking the ground in unison, and felt his team shift behind him as they did the same. The Bludgers were released, as well as the Golden Snitch. Then, Madam Hooch looked at both of them before throwing the Quaffle into the air and blowing into her whistle.

* * *

_Finally the last chapter! Thank you all for staying with me until the end of this, I'm glad I could take you along in my whacky ideas. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I had fun writing it. Stay tuned for the epilogue!_

_Please let me know if you liked this chapter down in the review section, and as always, enjoy!_


	13. Epilogue: Five Years Later

**Epilogue: Five Years Later**

The gentle breeze blew through the Highland moors, carrying with it deep red leaves and the scent of hay. Sitting at a table outside the imposing residence, two young women enjoyed a cup of tea as they waited for the rest of their group to arrive and help with further preparations. A gigantic white and gold marquee stood further away, signaling a nearing wedding.

"I miss caffeine," McKenzie whined, shifting to sit more comfortably on her chair. "Scratch that, I miss not being pregnant. My fingers swelled so much all of a sudden that I had to take my ring off."

As if on cue, her husband came out of the daintily designed glass double doors to worry over her.

"Here, love, I found you something to prop your feet up," Callum fussed, carrying a small ottoman.

Gratefully, Kenzie put her feet up, letting a sigh of relief as she felt somewhat more comfortable. Moire shook her head, a small endeared smile on her face.

"Do you know when Leah, Erin, and Emma will be here?" She asked instead of commenting on her cousin's overprotectiveness as he fed his wife a piece of shortbread.

"Leah and Emma are coming in an hour from Diagon Alley, they just had to pick up our dresses. Erin should be here later tonight. Are the Potters and the Weasleys arriving today?"

"Any minute now," she declared.

Moire breathed in the fall air. It was still one of her favorite smells after the years. And, just as the tranquility set in, loud conversation interrupted her inner peace. She didn't mind. After all, it was what she had signed up for. Her Aunts Gavina and Greer came out first, both on either side of Hermione, while her mother was deep in conversation with Ginny. Lainie, Nairne, and Fleur spoke of floral arrangements while Cadha had Angelina and Ron in a debate about which teams were most likely to make a comeback. Molly, holding a box in her arms, was catching up with Aoife, who seemed to have taken a liking to the Weasley matriarch, while the Laird, Bill, and Harry stayed back in the parlor, seemingly discussing the upcoming events, before they shook hands and made their way out through the double door leading to the large garden. Moire stood up to greet them, while Kenzie struggled a bit but followed stead.

"Hello, my dear!" Molly greeted with a large smile, engulfing her in a bone crushing hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," she saluted back with a smile of her own for the short woman.

"None of this, darling, you know you can call me Gran. You're family after all!"

She smiled at that as Ginny and Harry came up next, hugging her with less force but just as much love as Mrs. Weasley, followed by Lily, who now towered over her by a few inches but still revered the ground she walked on. One by one, she welcomed all of the Weasley-Potters, her chest filling with joy as she saw each of them.

"How are the rooms?" She asked.

"They're perfect as always, dear," Hermione assured.

"Quick, while James is still moving gifts into the Manor with Albus, Fred, and Scorpius," Molly ushered, setting the wooden box down on the table. Flipping the lid, she revealed Aunt Muriel's tiara.

"That is absolutely gorgeous," Lainie complimented.

"She is going to look stunning," Ginny assured as Molly placed the tiara on Moire's head.

There was a small silence as they took in the sight of the tiara on Moire's deep red hair and how the moonstones and diamonds shone in the light. Fiona's eyes watered which prompted the Laird to pull his wife to his side and hand her a handkerchief.

"You look beautiful!" Victoire exclaimed as the toddler in her arms clapped her hands with a wide smile on her face.

"I can't believe this is finally happening," Roxanne sighed dreamily.

"It seems like only yesterday they were pulling their wands out at each other in the corridors," Dominique giggled.

"To be quite fair, I think Moire was the more aggressive one out of the two," Kenzie commented. "James was all talk."

"Now, now, let's not bring up those times in front of my future in-laws, shall we?" Moire declared, taking the tiara off and placing it in its box.

With a flick of her wand, Molly sent it to her room, and they magically enlarged the table to fit all of them, as well as summoned more chairs. Just as they settled down, the boys walked in. Moire took a second to appreciate her fiancé. Professional Quidditch had put a lot more muscle on him, but he kept a laughing glint behind his spectacles. Walking up to her, he dropped a kiss on her lips.

"Hi," he greeted, looking completely enamored.

"Hi," she replied, amused.

"Oh, get a room," Fred complained.

"Frederic, behave," his mother chastised.

"Yes, mum."

"And George, no pranks!"

"Same goes for you, Ronald," Hermione warned.

"We wouldn't dream of it, love," Ron assured, with George nodding a few seats away from him. She did not look convinced.

Moire smiled at the sight, holding James' hand under the table. Her left hand was on display, the platinum band decorated with one large diamond flanked on either side by one smaller one, the stones shining every time she moved her fingers. She looked around the table. Teddy and Victoire were just as in love as they were the day of their wedding, little Andy sitting on her mother's lap and munching on Fiona McLeoch's famous shortbread cookies. Scorpius and Rose had moved in together a year ago, and while it had seemed to be quite a sore spot with both of their fathers at first, they had both gotten used to it. Rose was studying magical law, surely following after her mother's footsteps, while Scorpius had just finished his Healer training. Fred, who was living his best life as a ladies' man, had unsurprisingly become an Auror, and as did Albus, who he had finally managed to start dating Alice Longbottom a year and a half prior and seemed to be moping as she would not arrive until two days before the wedding. Lily, who had proven to be quite talented at Charms, had just finished her education at Hogwarts the previous summer, and seemed to be training under Advanced Charms Masters, and there were talks of her taking over Flitwick's position in the next few years. After years of pining, she had finally confessed her feelings to Lysander, who had seemed quite shocked as he had been under the impression the two of them had been dating since Lily's fourth year and his fifth. He was currently studying under his great-grandfather and was willing to apply for the position of Care for Magical Creatures as soon as Hagrid decided to give it up. He definitely had the qualifications for it and working alongside Lily would be perfect for the both of them. It was similar for the rest of the family, who were slowly but surely figuring out their careers and love lives. With no doubt, the Weasley-Potter family was as lively, supportive, and whacky as they were the first time Moire had met them, and she was quite happy she would be part of it.

James had proposed quite unorthodoxly, but then again, what else did she expect from him? He had climbed the ladder quite fast when he had first started with the Magpies, becoming a starter in record time, and it was no surprise when had been selected to be part of England's national team at the Quidditch World Cup the year prior. After a long game against Spain, England had brought home the World Cup in a close victory, and as the reporters had interviewed each player after the game while on the field, their voices magically amplified, James had decided now was his time.

"What was your biggest hope for tonight's game, James?" They had asked him.

"Well, I promised myself that if we won, I'd finally do this. But, now that we have, I want to ask my girlfriend, who is currently watching from the box seats, a very important question. Moire McLeoch, I have loved you since we were eleven years old. I confessed that in front of all of Hogwarts, so it seems fair that I do this now, with both of our families here right now, and in front of half of the Wizarding World. So, will you marry me?"

The stadium had exploded in exclamations and gasps, and it had taken quite a while to settle down. Moire had almost passed out, her entire face red, as both Ginny and her mother had been losing their minds. Harry had facepalmed at his son's choice in timing. Moire had then flagged down one of the nearest attendants to take her to the commentators' box so she could give her answer.

"We have word that Miss McLeoch is on the move," the reporter had said, as she hurried. The commentators had stepped aside at the sight of her, and she had taken a shaking breath before leaning over the microphone.

"James Sirius Potter, you absolute fucking twat," she had exclaimed. "Couldn't you have waited until you got back to the tent?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing, love," he had replied with a cheerful tone into the reporter's wand. "So, will you marry me?"

"Of course, I'll marry you, you idiot!"

The stadium had the erupted in cheers and songs, although she later saw quite a few tear stained cheeks from young witches wearing James' number, and the rest was history.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered in her ear.

"About you proposing. I'm still mad, by the way."

"And you're still marrying me."

"We're here!" Emma cheerfully exclaimed as she walked out to the garden, holding Leah's hand, followed closely by Erin. "And look who finished work early and met up with us! Oh, my! The marquee looks beautiful!"

Gavina, as usual, gave them an approving glance, never failing to mention she had seen that coming from a hundred miles away.

"There's a week until the wedding, and yet there's still so much to do!" Aoife lamented.

"Don't worry, we have quite a lot of helpers," Cadha assured.

Most of Moire's cousins were arriving between that evening and the next morning. McLeoch weddings were always a large affair, considering the sheer number of them, their allies, and of course, with the Weasley and Potter families and their own friends, this wedding would be particularly taxing. However, as Aunt Cadha had said, there were quite a lot of them and hopefully everything would be taken care of before the wedding.

"You know what's funny?" Erin mused. "Emma predicted this."

"I did?" Emma questioned.

"Erin's right! When we found out that Moire smelled James in Amortentia!" Kenzie exclaimed. "Moire said it was just because he smelled good, and not because she fancied him. And you said you'd remind her of it in five years at their wedding!"

"I will now be opening a divination shop!" Emma declared, making Leah shake her head at her girlfriend's antics.

"If only you could have predicted the results of the Slytherin-Gryffindor game, I would've won my bets," Hugo mumbled.

In a split second, the energy shifted around the table. Moire frowned, opening her mouth, ready to argue about the one subject they had never satisfyingly put a lid on. She saw James' expression mirror her own. Albus was halfway up his chair already while the shortbread cookie in Scorpius' hand was crushed into crumbs. Fred was already turning red. Everyone else's expression turned into one of horror at the mere mention of the one argument that usually rivaled the Third Year Showdown, as it had been affectionately nicknamed, but only this time, included the entire Slytherin and Gryffindor teams of the 2021-2022 school year instead of just two thirteen year olds. Before anyone had had the chance to start yelling, Kenzie slammed her fist on the table.

"_WE DO NOT TALK OF THE SLYTHERIN-GRYFFINDOR GAME!_"

* * *

_And it is the end! This sprouted from me wanting to read a fanfic where James, who is usually portrayed as the poster boy for Gryffindor, fell for a Slytherin. And since I couldn't find any, I wrote this. As for the last bit, it originated because I genuinely didn't know who I wanted to win the Quidditch Cup for that year so I leave it up to you to imagine what happened. _

_I hope you enjoyed something that was quite literally a result of my insomnia. _

_I will see you at the next fanfic hopefully. So, one final time, enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts in the reviews section!_


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